Q's Gift
by sarhea
Summary: Q decides Hermione Granger is messing up the timeline so he drops her in the future to be found by young James Kirk. To stir the pot, he leaves a trail of clues for the House of Surak. Then one day Spock meets a unique woman who fits them all. COMPLETE
1. Provoking Interest in Vulcans

**Title:** Q's Gift  
**Author:** sarhea  
**Fandoms: **Harry Potter; Star Trek AOS/Reboot/IX/2009; Star Trek TNG  
******Rated:** PG13**  
****Warnings:** spoilers for ST-AOS, AU B7 EWE  
**Summary:** Q decides Hermione Granger is messing up the timeline given her tendency to fight for underdog causes so he drops her in the future to be found by young James Kirk. To stir the pot, he also leaves a trail of bread crumbs for the House of Surak... clues to help T'Pau's descendants identify a singularly unique human female with great power, rare abilities, and a driven intellect. Then one day Spock meets a woman who could be the model for a painting created long before his father was even born, a human who was More. Having lost his mother to Nero he is unwilling to let a woman who soothes his soul to walk away without making a claim on her.  
**For:** LJ community startrekbigbang - Star Trek Big Bang 2011  
**Author Notes:  
**- AU after B7 Deathly Hallows; ignore the epilogue. Hermione and Ron do not get together. They Do Not Work in my universe.  
- Post the Star Trek Reboot movie. Key changes near the end of the movie and several new scenes between their return to Earth and the Admiralty confirming Kirk's Captaincy.  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and co, JK Rowling does. I don't own Trekverse, the concept, series/movies, or associated characters, Paramount and various other holding companies do.

* * *

Summary: T'Pau meets Q and a clan legend takes root

AN: Pre Reboot the Movie

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

**~ooO Provoking Interest in Vulcans Ooo~**

T'Pau allowed her awareness to return to the physical. She blinked and stared as she noticed the intruder in her private room, a Terran male dressed in black boots and an odd jumpsuit, with black legs, sides, and shoulders and a red long-sleeved top. At that moment he was bending forward from the waist, poking at the embers of her firepot like an unruly child.

"But I am not a child."

She blinked, startled. Had he read her–?

"Yes. You were projecting very clearly."

Reflexively the leader of the Syrrannites slammed down her shields and focused on keeping her thoughts carefully blank.

He straightened and turned with a typically human smile that unnerved the Vulcan, so she focused on his appearance instead. The collar of the odd jumpsuit was a stand-up style with four round metal studs in a row on one side. His hair was dark brown standing up all over his head in an informal human style and receding, eyes dark brown and very round, skin the white-pink typical of Caucasian Terrans.

"Who are you?"

The human male cocked his head to one side and arched his brows. "Is that what you really want to know?" T'Pau was confused. "Let me put it this way, who I am is not really important, but what I'm here to share with you is."

"And there is no way for me to know both?" T'Pau inquired calmly.

He laughed. "You are correct, T'Pau, daughter of T'Kei. Why don't I start with who I am, then." He waited until T'Pau nodded hesitantly in agreement. "My name is Q. I am a member of the Q Continuum. The Continuum exists on an extra-dimensional plane of existence. What you see before you," he gestured at himself, "is a construct. I have no physical body. I can choose what appearance to take." There was a flash, and, when it cleared, T'Pau saw a Vulcan with the same facial features and messy hair dressed in the same odd black-red jumpsuit. There was another flash, and the original human male reappeared. "All Q are omnipotent, and more barbaric and infantile races have called us gods. You may consider us watchers. When we do interfere, it is for a reason that is usually unclear to the mortal races involved."

T'Pau nodded. If this Q was omnipotent as he said, it made sense his people had rules to not interfere in the development of the younger, less experienced species. It was the reason why Vulcan was very hesitant to provide technology to Earth. Of course, being on the other foot—as the humans said—was not very… pleasant.

"May I know the reason why you are 'interfering' now?" She spoke carefully. She was not quite sure if she believed, but it would not hurt to listen.

Q looked hard at her before nodding and reaching out to pick up a sliced half of amethyst geode. It was an inexpensive, common geologic specimen, short purple crystal shards pointing inwards from the curved inner surface of the semi-ovoid rocky 'shell.'

T'Pau watched with wide eyes as a bright white flash appeared above his hand. The geode vanished, leaving behind a double-fist-sized chunk of purple crystal, long, perfect facets and a center free of the micro fissures that usually riddled large natural crystal specimens, making them cloudy and unattractive. An amethyst crystal of that size and quality would be priceless, a family heirloom, treasured for properties that amplified and focused psionic abilities such as empathy, telepathy, and healing.

He tossed the crystal towards T'Pau who caught it reflexively. "Here, a token of my seriousness. It is the real thing and two point four five times larger than the one kept in Mount Seleya. And unlike that one, this one is flawless. It can easily handle up to five Adepts—or the equivalent—merging for a single purpose."

T'Pau nodded wordlessly. His claims could easily be verified. If the stone was as he claimed, it would be well worth listening. Perhaps even beneficial.

Q smirked. "Good. Keep listening, T'Pau of Vulcan. I want you to meet someone." He waved at one wall. There was another white flash, and, when it faded, there was a large, three-foot-high, four-foot-wide picture, framed in rare Teku wood carved in an intricate design of vines and thorns around the edges.

T'Pau could not resist stepping closer to examine the artwork. The surface was heavy canvas stretched on a wooden frame coated with thick, vividly-hued pigments. It was a Terran artistic medium. T'Pau had heard and seen oil paintings, but such art did not fare well on Vulcan with its hot, dry atmosphere.

"I am unfamiliar with the figure depicted."

The painting was a collection of images, distant and close-up, all of one Terran female in a variety of settings and outfits. She was young, less than thirty, with deep velvety brown eyes that seemed almost alive, even on the painted surface. She was not classically beautiful, with straight, thick brows and a long tip-tilted nose. Her cheekbones were high and as defined as her jaw line and firm, clefted chin. Her mouth was full and lush, painted or slick in the different images, almost sensual.

Her light brown hair, streaked with light and dark hues, by turns flowed wildly around her face and down her shoulders, or was restrained in an elegant coronet of braids, or was twisted in a haphazard knot, anchored with slender sticks that did not constrain wispy strands from escaping and framing her face and touching the nape of her neck.

She was a child, still physically immature, walking down an ancient stone-paved corridor lined with Terran-style medieval armour bearing weapons, with a heavy looking bag bulging with books over one shoulder. She wore a knee-length pleated gray skirt and white shirt with red and yellow-striped fabric knotted around her neck and knee-high black socks and shoes.

She stood under a tall leafless tree staring at a lake, a Terran castle in the misty background, wearing white lace-up shoes, pale blue heavy cotton trousers, and a tight-fitting red top embroidered with yellow and white flowers around the neck and short sleeves, holding a slender length of wood, around ten inches long, in one hand.

She was seated at a desk with piles of ancient books arranged around her, scribbling on an unrolled scroll using a glass-nib pen and inkpot, dragging her ink-stained fingers through her messy mane of brown curls. Her clothing was black and covered her completely, from her neck down to her wrists.

She stood on a marble balcony, leaning against the balustrade, under the velvety dark sky, sprinkled with stars. She wore an elegant, old-fashioned Terran-style gown made of thin, very light purple and pink material that floated from a high waist, with a low-necked bodice and cap sleeves.

She was dressed in heavy black robes, the skirts almost floating around her legs, holding out an arm wielding the slender length of wood like a conductor's baton. Sparks of red and gold shot from the tip like miniature fireworks.

T'Pau turned to Q. "Who is she?"

"Her name is irrelevant. It is simply a label which can be easily changed." Sensing T'Pau's ire, he smirked and added, "She is known by many names and titles, some complimentary and some not, but all very accurate labels on various aspects of her character." Sensing he had her attention, Q continued. "Know-it-all. Bookworm. Side-kick. The Gryffindor Princess. Brightest Witch. Most Brilliant Mind. The-Witch-Who-Said-No. Trouble-maker. Rebellious. Law-breaker. Self-rule Activist. Creative. Loyal. Dependable. Honourable. Vengeful. Ruthless. Unrelenting. Implacable. Compassionate. Loving. Merciful. Trusted."

T'Pau was impressed and concerned. At one point she herself had been similarly labelled. It was only after she had succeeded that the trouble-maker, law-breaker, and rebel labels vanished. It was odd, feeling much in common with an unknown Terran.

"Why are you showing her to me?"

Q studied T'Pau intently. "I am only sharing this information as a courtesy. What you do with it is your choice." He waited until T'Pau nodded, indicating her understanding, before continuing. "I have removed her from the past. Her presence was disrupting history, warping your Now for the worse. Not because she was doing anything wrong, but because she was trying to do too much Right. She was born in the decades leading up to the Eugenics Wars, and when her people chose to retreat and hide from the Holocaust, she chose not to because it was not in her nature to see her people suffering and look away. And she would be quite successful in her personal guerrilla war. For quite a few years."

T'Pau's eyes widened, and she stared at the painting more closely. "One female would have such a drastic impact on a planetary war?"

"Like you haven't?" Q challenged.

T'Pau stilled and bowed her head, accepting the jibe.

"Anyway, like I just said, she would succeed in keeping the Augments from gaining control. Unfortunately it would make them more vicious and driven and reckless. They would use methods that would shatter all civilization and cause a general reversion to the Dark Ages. That is something that _cannot_ be allowed—humanity is too important for the future—so I was given permission to move her to a time where she will not have such an effect."

T'Pau considered the information and noted a flaw. "You have not specified if now is a time on which she will not have such an effect."

Q smirked. "Good call. It isn't. Things are too much in flux, and there is too much paranoia and general fear of all things different. You know that best, given Terra Prime and the former Vulcan High Council's actions. The universe is not yet ready to accept and respect her values, ethics, and abilities."

"Then when will the universe be ready?" T'Pau wanted to know.

"Soon." Q thought hard. "In your grandson's time, almost certainly in your great-grandson's time." He cocked his head. "She will bring great honour and promise to any clan. Fresh blood, new attitudes, different perspectives, power, drive, and intelligence." He glanced at the painting. "Of course, winning her loyalty and respect is a completely different story. She is not the sort to bow and submit because it is expected. Quite unlike her namesake in _The Winter's Tale_." He smirked. "I don't think there are any Vulcans with the mental flexibility to understand, match, and accept her. Vulcans generally are a rather rigid, blinkered race. Besides, she is not the sort to follow social expectations. The best thing you can hope for is forming an alliance." He waved a hand. "Good luck finding her." And then he vanished in a white flash of light.

T'Pau blinked, taken aback by the bland conclusion that Vulcans were incapable of the necessary mental flexibility to understand and accept humans. She huffed internally and made the decision to prove Q wrong. She would show the Q Continuum that Vulcans were capable of understanding and accepting humans.

Then she realized the near impossibility of the challenge awaiting her. Was it really worth the trouble and effort? She had created her position opposed to interactions with off-worlders, supporting the Syrrannite interpretation of Surak; Pure Logic would clash with human emotionalism and sensibilities. Then she remembered that this human female was admired by an omnipotent being. Her will and influence was enough to potentially shift the path of a major event in Terran history. It was almost certain she would shape the future once she formed new contacts and alliances.

T'Pau was determined that Vulcan be part of that alliance. Good thing she had at least four to five generations to work on ensuring it.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Young Sarek stared at a high resolution digital rendering on a stretched silk screen. It had to be a duplicate of a Terran artist, given that the subject of the painting was a Terran female, around ten years older than himself, dressed in archaic clothes.

"I see you have discovered our clan's secret, Sarek-am."

Sarek did not flinch. It would shame his parents to display his faulty control before the clan matriarch.

"Pid-kom." His voice was level with the high-pitch of childhood.

T'Pau nodded gravely and did not speak. Sarek did not fidget, but after thirty-seven seconds he spoke first.

"Who is she?" He glanced at the digital rendering.

T'Pau glanced at the young Terran female with laughing eyes, solemn eyes, challenging eyes… eyes that seemed to follow T'Pau no matter from what angle or distance she observed the image. The effect was more intense when she looked upon the original 'gift' Q had given her.

"Her name is not known, and it is irrelevant."

Sarek considered the information. "But she is important," he concluded.

T'Pau was taken aback by the insight. "How did you reach that conclusion?"

"She is Terran. They are mostly weaker and less intelligent than Vulcans. For you to be interested in her, she has to be More."

T'Pau was impressed by the logic. "You are correct. She is more. She has the potential to shape planetary, no quadrant-wide history and influence the flow of events."

Sarek blinked. "How so?" he asked hesitantly. "Certain patterns repeat throughout history in cycles, but how can you say this Terran female will have such an effect?"

T'Pau raised a brow. "Was not Surak also but a single voice? His voice guided our people out of savagery and towards logic and control."

Sarek bowed his head. "You are correct. Forgive me, but I failed to define my query more accurately. How do you know she is a pivot point for events?"

T'Pau's brow smoothed. "Sit Sarek-am and listen to my tale. It is part of our House history and is not to be shared with others. Understood?"

Sarek stiffened obediently. "Yes, Pid-kom." And then he sat on a low backless stool, across from the high-backed chaise upon which T'Pau settled.

And he listened to T'Pau describe her first and only encounter with the omnipotent being known as Q. Of a not-ordinary human called the Gryffindor Princess. At the end of the tale, Sarek was more serious and grave, comprehending the weight of knowledge to which he was now a party.

"I have chosen to share this information with you and not your parents or anyone else because you of all my grandchildren have the necessary flexibility to meet off-worlders and find common ground. Most Vulcans see Terrans as lesser, and most are, but they erroneously conclude all are lesser and so do not recognize when they encounter the rare gems. You must remember to greet each off-worlder without assumptions or prejudice. If you do not, you will be more likely to make inaccurate conclusions through biased and flawed data."

Sarek nodded solemnly. "May I go to Terra?"

"Why?"

He glanced at the rendering. "I would like to meet her. She is a Terran. It is highly probable she will stay with her own kind."

T'Pau frowned. "Remember what I said about making preconceived conclusions?"

"There are no facts saying otherwise," Sarek argued as he stood up and moved to stand before the painting. "The images in the background are highly reminiscent of historical Terran architecture. Most buildings on colony worlds are constructed of synthetic materials and are more modern in appearance."

"True. But there is no guarantee Q will leave her on Terra."

"If she is truly from the past, she will know nothing about modern technology, spaceships, aliens, and other planets. Terra will be familiar and safe to her."

"Your logic is sound. How do you propose explaining your presence on Terra?"

Sarek considered the question. "Many Vulcans teach in Terran educational institutions. Or I could join the Vulcan Diplomatic Service."

T'Pau nodded gravely. "Then expand your studies to include subjects required for a diplomatic career. When you are ready, I will put your name forward on the list of Ambassadors to Terra.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Sarek never forgot his conversation with T'Pau. After his marriage ended he set aside a promising career in Astrophysics to pursue a career in the Vulcan Diplomatic Service and eventually returned from Earth with a Terran bride, a teacher named Amanda Grayson.

It was a choice that surprised many, but one T'Pau supported after a private conversation with her grandson.

~o~

"Why have you chosen a Terran as your bondmate?"

Sarek was silent for a while. "It would be more concise if I shared my thoughts."

T'Pau studied her favoured grandson sharply before nodding. She watched as he knelt before her, face tilted up to meet her eyes calmly. He did not flinch as she settled her fingertips against the meld points on his temple and allowed her mind to sink into his.

Several minutes later she lifted her fingers away and gestured for him to sit beside her. And she watched with a thoughtful expression as he did that.

"You still seek her."

"Not to the exclusion of my other duties."

T'Pau was silent for a time. "There is no guarantee the Gryffindor Princess will react in a similar fashion as Amanda Grayson."

Sarek frowned slightly. "Amanda is different from the one Q described to you. But there is something about her expression, her passion for knowledge, her devotion to her students… It reminded me of the female in the painting. I found myself drawn to her," he admitted freely. "Our mental compatibility only confirmed my attraction to her."

"Your union will most likely be sterile," T'Pau pointed out. "Hybrids rarely survive birth or reach maturity. And there is a ninety-seven point three probability the child will be infertile."

Sarek did not look away. "Science can compensate when nature fails. The VSA has a very talented and skilled genetic engineering department."

T'Pau considered his suggestion. It was expensive but possible. Illogical to most but for a Matriarch seeking to bring a particular human female into the clan some point in the future perhaps it was not so logical. Amanda Grayson would be a test run, to determine what a human female would embrace in Vuhlkansu.

But this was her grandson's future, not a purely scientific experiment!

"Are you certain Amanda Grayson will not break?"

"I am certain."

Sarek did not flinch under the unrelenting scrutiny of his Clan Mother's black eyes. After several tense seconds she nodded once.

"Very well then. But first, I wish to speak to your bondmate myself."

~o~

T'Pau was not disappointed by Amanda Grayson. Not when she first met the young Terran woman, not in the months and years that followed.

Eventually Amanda Grayson presented Ma'at S'chn T'gai with a son named Spock, a new heir to the House of Surak.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Spock stared at a very old digital rendering on display in one of the smaller locked rooms in the family wing. He had hacked the system to see if he could, and once he had the 'key,' it had seemed logical to make use of it and explore the unused sealed rooms in the ancient estate.

"I see you have found the Gryffindor Princess."

Spock started. To his shock, his father did not look displeased by his actions. In fact, he looked reminiscent as he moved into the room to look upon the rendering.

Spock wondered why there were old images of a Terran female in a Vulcan household. As far as he knew, his mother was the first human female to marry into Ma'at S'chn T'gai. Who was this female? She had to be of great importance to be remembered by his House.

He watched his father re-examine the image from varying angles. As Spock mimicked his actions he could see what had so intrigued his father. The eyes in the painting seemed to follow him around the room; warm, loving, serene, accepting. He wondered if he would ever meet someone who would look at him like that.

"Who is she?" he asked his father.

"We have yet to determine her exact identity, Spock."

That was a bit of a shock to the young hybrid. "You do not know who she is, but you have a picture of her? Is the image valuable? Like the _Mona Lisa_?"

Sarek glanced at his son with faint amusement. "The painting is not intrinsically valuable, but it is to those of our clan who know its history."

Spock perked up. "History? Tell me, sa-mekh!"

And so Sarek told his son the tale the clan matriarch had shared with him. He had never managed to locate the time-displaced woman, but he had managed to uncover a few additional details about her.

"_The Winter's Tale_ is an ancient Terran play written by a playwright named William Shakespeare. Q described her character as strong, intelligent, and driven, and very unlike her namesake from the play. There are two primary female characters in that play, Paulina and Hermione. Based on Q's description, her name must be Hermione.

"When I became ambassador, my assistant examined the Terran census records as far back as available looking for a Caucasian female named Hermione. As you know, many databases from before the Eugenics Wars are incomplete and fragmented. However, I believe we managed to determine her identity. Ramek found an old-style newsprint article about the winners of a fully-paid scholarship to a prestigious educational institution. One of the winners was a Hermione Jean Granger, born September 19, 1981 in Crawley, England. Computer software extrapolated her adult appearance from her image in that newsprint article to various ages, all of which strongly match the painting. There are no records of her after 2000 and very few details from before then."

Spock's eyes were very wide. "She is from so long ago? That was well before First Contact."

Sarek nodded. "Yes. T'Pau believes she will find it hard to adjust to the future, the new society, and modern technology. And if she is as wise as Q describes, she will not tell anyone she is displaced out of time. She will watch and wait and seek alliances with those who will respect and accept her."

Spock studied the female, no, Hermione Granger, more closely.

"She is pretty," he commented. "Her hair is like Terran oceans."

"What do you mean?"

Spock explained carefully. "It looks like it will move like waves."

Sarek considered the image and found he had to agree. "I believe you are correct. But it is something that can only be verified once she is found."

"Will you find her?"

"I do not know. T'Pau said she would appear in my lifetime or yours. That is a long span of time."

"But you are looking for her." Spock noted shrewdly.

"Yes. I've inserted certain subroutines to alert me if any variations of the name Hermione Granger are entered into any Federation database on Terra."

Spock considered his father's semi-legal actions. "Would it not be more logical to tell others? So more people can look for her?"

"Perhaps, but there is no proof other than memories, and T'Pau is unwilling to share what could be an advantage with others. Besides, few would believe such an extraordinary tale."

"What will be done if she is found?"

"That is uncertain and up to the clan member who locates her," Sarek admitted. "T'Pau indicated she would support an alliance or connection of a more lasting nature."

Spock's brown eyes were very wide again. "Like a bonding?"

Sarek inclined his head. "Like a bonding. The being called Q said she was loyal and honourable, powerful, driven, and intelligent, worthy qualities to introduce into the clan. And to impress an omnipotent being, she must truly be extraordinary."

Spock frowned slightly. "Is it not illogical to believe in an omnipotent being, in God?"

"Most modern Vulcans would agree, but remember Spock, our ancestors believed in many such deities. And remember, much of the universe has yet to be charted or explained thoroughly. For the concept of God, all-powerful beings, to be universal and enduring on so many worlds, there must be a core of truth in the tales."

The younger Vulcan absorbed the mild rebuke with a thoughtful expression before speaking. "Sa-mekh, do you believe in the gods?"

Sarek was silent for a while. "I cannot say I disbelieve in them," he answered after a while. "I have seen much and read many classified reports that indicate there are unknown entities guiding and shaping events. But who or what no one has been able to determine. They could be what our ancestors called gods or some unknown alien race that is more advanced than any we have encountered."

Spock nodded slowly. "So if someone believes in a god..."

"It is a personal choice. Just do not expect any god to act on your behalf."

"It is foolish and illogical to believe in gods then," Spock announced.

"Perhaps." The corners of Sarek's eyes creased. "But it would be illogical and rude to go around denouncing the religious beliefs of others. You can believe or disbelieve but do not disrespect anyone who chooses to believe."

"But it is illogical!"

"My decision to bond with, to marry, your mother was illogical to others. To me, it was perfectly logical. T'Pau understood that and that is why she supported our union despite the wide-spread opposition."

Spock looked down at his toes absorbing the information, then up at his father. "So this being called Q could be one of these entities?"

"I believe so."

"She must be very special for an advanced race to notice her." Then a small frown creased the young Vulcan's brow. "What should I do if I find her?"

Sarek tilted his head to one side. "That would be up to you. But you would gain great admiration and support, from T'Pau and myself, if you won her interest."

Spock frowned slightly. "But I am betrothed to T'Pring," he pointed out.

"Winning her interest doesn't have to mean wedding her. You must secure her respect and trust so that she trusts Ma'at S'chn T'Gai and, by extension, Vulcan."

Understanding dawned. "I understand, sa-mekh. If I find her, I will attain her respect and trust. So that she will be friends with me and our race."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

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	2. After the Narada

Summary: McCoy is determined to look after a particular stubborn patient of his. He and Spock learn more of Jim Kirk's history, the facts not in the official files.

AN: Near the end of Reboot the Movie. Between the _Narada_'s destruction and Kirk gaining Captaincy of the _Enterprise_.

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

**~ooO After the _Narada_ Ooo~**

McCoy focused on completing the latest of the never-ending reports and patient files he had to maintain. It was part of his new duties as the current CMO of the _Enterprise_. Of course a CMO usually had a full staff of trained, experienced medics to handle the minutiae of Sick Bay. The _Enterprise_ didn't. They'd lost three doctors, eight nurses, and nine field-medics in the Battle of Vulcan and the _Narada_ Action. McCoy hadn't had the time to catch up on his paperwork until now, after the _Enterprise_ had limped to Sol System, somehow in one piece. He had been too focused on keeping his patients alive and the traumatized, grieving crew from snapping.

"Doctor?"

The Georgia-born doctor looked up into the face of a blond, blue-eyed angel and resisted the urge to yell and chase the intruder off. Nurse Christine Chapel was a consummate professional and quite immune to his snark.

"What is it, Chapel?"

"You wanted to be informed of Captain Pike's situation."

Adrenaline spiked in McCoy's veins. "What is it?" He grabbed at the PADD she held and nearly overbalanced when she moved out range of his swipe.

"Doctor, Starfleet Medical has assigned a full team of specialists to treat Captain Pike. He has been transferred out of your care. You don't have to keep worrying about him."

McCoy shook his head. "He was my patient first," he insisted.

Chapel sighed. "Okay, but please note, I strongly believe you are stretching yourself too much, Doctor. We were given six weeks of downtime to recover from the battle and to grieve while the _Enterprise_ is being repaired. I'm certain you aren't supposed to spend your downtime in Medical treating patients," she warned.

McCoy huffed. "Pike was my patient first. I need to make sure he's doing okay."

Chapel looked disapproving. "You can easily do that by reviewing his patient file."

McCoy snorted. "Give me a break, Chapel. You and I know the emotional effects of an injury like this are more devastating than the physical damage. Pike knows he is damn unlikely to get command of a ship anytime soon. And I know damn well the _command_ types are the best at pretending everything is just fine and dandy while the ship is coming apart around them. I need to see him in person."

The nurse stared at her superior and nodded briefly before holding the PADD out. "Here are his most recent records. Copy it to your PADD. If you need anything else, let me know."

McCoy relaxed a tiny bit. "Thanks, Christine."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Commander Spock did not display any hint of stress or concern as he strode down the corridors of Phlox Medical Building, West Wing, fifth floor.

"Commander!"

His stride faltered and came to a stop. He turned on one polished boot heel.

"Doctor McCoy."

"Yeah. Didn't expect to see you around here. Thought you would be at the Vulcan Embassy."

Spock inclined his head slightly. "I was. Now I am here to see Captain Pike."

McCoy nodded firmly. "Good. He needs all the visitors he can get. To keep him distracted and not depressed. Though I'm not sure how good you'll be for that." The sharp jibe did not have too much affect. McCoy was abrasive and rude to everyone. It was a surprise he had enlisted in a military organization and gone through the Academy without being disciplined.

Spock focused on resuming his course, very aware that McCoy was matching his pace, grumbling slightly under his breath. The Vulcan's focus was slightly split: one part was concerned about his former captain; the other was debating his future options, to stay in Starfleet or to retire his commission and join the rest of his people on the new colony.

"Spock, I'm worried about Pike."

The Vulcan officer shifted his focus to his companion. "About what, Doctor? From what I understand, Captain Pike is being treated by the best trauma specialists and neurosurgeons in Starfleet Medical."

McCoy made an impatient gesture, flapping his hand loosely. "Yeah, yeah, but you have to understand Spock, there isn't much they can do for him. His nerves were absolutely destroyed, dissolved by the chemical toxins. Even modern medicine can't rebuild what is no longer there."

Spock nodded slowly. "I understand. My own research yielded similar conclusions."

"I'm not supposed to be saying this, but the only realistic option left is an exoskeletal implant system. And Pike has been refusing to consider it." McCoy frowned slightly. "The longer we wait, the more his body adjusts and heals the loss and the less effective the implant system will be. If he's going to recover any degree of mobility, he needs to undergo surgery in the next nine to ten weeks."

"What do you require from me?" Spock wasn't certain he wanted to know the answer, but the question needed to be voiced.

"Talk to him. Talk to Captain Illyria Xanamaha. She has his power of attorney and might be able to change his mind."

Spock frowned slightly. "He does listen to Number One," he admitted slowly, "but I cannot make any recommendations without doing more research myself."

"That's fine. Just do it quickly, and talk to both of them. I hope they'll listen to Vulcan logic since they've been ignoring all advice from trained medical professionals."

Spock nodded. "Understood."

Both men turned down a side corridor and went through the swinging doors isolating private patient rooms. After signing in at the nurses' station, they made their way to a particular patient room. The room was empty of its assigned resident, but not unoccupied.

A mature, fair-complexioned woman in her fifties, with short reddish-brown hair, wearing black pants and a command gold tunic with braiding at the cuffs indicating her rank of captain, turned away from the other occupant, a much younger blond man in cadet reds.

The man smiled upon seeing the newcomers. "Hey Spock! Bones!" His expression turned a tad more sober. "If you're here to see Pike, he's in PT. He should be back in about twenty minutes."

The female Captain nodded. "Jim is correct. You are welcome to join us if you have the time to wait."

McCoy nodded. "Actually, this is perfect." He turned to the female. "I want to know why you aren't supporting the medical advice to start the exoskeletal implant therapy."

Captain Illyria Xanamaha, more commonly known as Number One when she was Pike's XO, frowned. "Doctor McCoy, medical professionals can advise, but patients are free to refuse treatment."

McCoy glowered. "But I don't see any reason why Pike is refusing! The longer he waits, the less likely he is to ever walk! The longer he waits to start the regimen, the chances of the implants taking decrease correspondingly."

Number One frowned faintly. "I am aware of that. So is Chris." She paused, her lips pressed tightly together. "We simply wish to explore alternative avenues."

McCoy was taken aback. "What alternatives? I've looked at all the experimental treatments and untested neurosurgery techniques being developed. There is nothing that can undo damage caused by Centaurian slug toxins on human neural tissue. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar."

Number One and Kirk glanced at each other, communicating silently before coming to a unified decision. Spock could never understand how a psi-null race could manage an almost telepathic feat. This time it was Kirk who spoke.

"There are less…orthodox options, Bones."

McCoy pounced. "Less orthodox? What do you mean, Jim?"

Again that silent communication before Number One responded, "There is one more…specialist who might be able to help. If she says nothing can be done, Chris will almost definitely agree to start the implant therapy."

"What is this miracle worker a specialist in?" McCoy wanted to know. So did Spock.

Jim's answer was blunt and completely unanticipated. "Magic. She's a witch."

McCoy's jaw dropped before his complexion turned purple. "What the fuck are you high on, you idiot! You're believing some scam-artist who claims to be a witch over licensed, trained medical professions? Why I oughta–"

"Enough!" Number One's glare was enough to cut off McCoy mid-rant. When he fell silent, she continued, "I don't expect you to believe or accept, but I expect you to respect the patient's beliefs and lifestyle just as you would any patient who refuses treatment for religious or cultural reasons." McCoy opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and nodded curtly. "Have some faith. Starfleet would not have made me a captain if I was a gullible fool. And trust that Jim has enough experience and street smarts to spot a con-artist.

"Jean is the real thing. She has abilities most humans don't. Some of them include healing others, like an old-style faith healer, like Vulcan healing trances. I don't know how it works, but I've seen it with my own eyes." She glared at McCoy, daring him to comment. He knew better than that. "She is also honest. She doesn't leech from her clients. All she asks for is travel, living, and treatment expenses, in addition to a single hefty consultation fee. If she can't do something, she is upfront about it and only takes the travel and living expenses."

McCoy sneered. "If she is such a miracle worker, why hasn't the medical community heard about her?"

Now Number One looked amused. "Do you think she cares about public recognition and accolades? No. Part of her conditions is strict confidentiality. No publicity or organizations or government agencies. And all her clients know better than to break her rules. All the licensed doctor on file knows is that the patient recovered. An inexplicable medical miracle."

McCoy opened his mouth to protest, before shutting it with a thoughtful expression. "Eric Peterson? He was one of my patients in my first year, a jet-ski accident. The bone shards from the shattered spine were too numerous and badly placed for conventional surgery. I was informed he was being transferred out for specialist treatment. A few months later, I heard he had completely recovered. There was nothing in his file indicating any additional specialist treatment received after he left the Academy."

Number One shrugged. "He may have been one of her clients. I know the boy's father. Commodore Jack Peterson was a year behind Chris in the Academy."

McCoy swung around to Kirk. "And how did you get tangled up in this mess?"

Kirk shrugged. "Mia's a friend. She saved me." The answers were short and completely inadequate, but Kirk refused to expand. He turned to Number One. "Last I heard she's in Europe. I'll take the next shuttle over and track her down."

Spock noted a discrepancy. "Is her name Jean or Mia?"

Number One and Kirk glanced at each other. Kirk shrugged and responded, "Both. She uses a lot of aliases.

"Her actions are illegal," the hybrid pointed out carefully. "She is practicing medicine without training or a license."

Kirk snorted and grinned. "Trust me, Spock, what she does is nothing even similar to what Bones does."

Spock glanced at Number One. "Is it similar to Vulcan healing methods?"

She nodded. "Yes. But not entirely."

"Even Vulcan healers are trained and tested before they are allowed to practice."

Kirk snorted. "Hey look, there is no Earth equivalent to whatever agency regulates and licenses your healers. If she ever went to the medical community, they'd (a) laugh her out as a lunatic and try to commit her to an asylum, (b) believe her and push her to keep healing every near-hopeless case until she burned out, or (c) fear her and label her an Augment and cut her open, trying to figure out how she does it. So she created (d) and decided to do none of the above."

McCoy opened his mouth to protest, then shut it. Each of the first three scenarios were quite probable depending on who was informed.

Number One nodded, satisfied she and Kirk had made their points clear. She turned to the younger man. "She is most likely in England. Find her. Use the account for any expenses."

Kirk nodded soberly. "I will."

And he left after saying his farewells to his best friend and former acting captain and XO.

~o~

Thirty hours later, McCoy received a message from Illyria Xanamaha inviting him to stop by and visit Pike at his private home off Starfleet grounds. The doctors had released Pike the same day Number One and Jim had told him they were going to ask a witch-healer to examine Pike. There was no reason for Pike to remain on campus since he was refusing all treatment and any PT sessions could be conducted during scheduled visits by a trained physiotherapist.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

McCoy stomped up the old fashioned interlocking stone path leading up to the tall, narrow detached house. He wondered if the interior had been upgraded to have modern conveniences and new necessities like a lift and/or ramps.

He glared up at his silent companion.

"Now listen here, hobgoblin. I expect you to put that brain of yours to work as soon as we get in the door! The quicker you disprove this witchcraft nonsense, the quicker Pike can get started on the implant regime."

Spock's nostrils flared. "Doctor, part of the scientific process requires keeping an open mind and collecting data without bias before making a hypothesis."

McCoy stopped. "You can't be serious, Spock! Witchcraft, magic, and voodoo nonsense is just that! Unscientific mumbo jumbo! No one believes in such foolishness anymore."

Spock frowned slightly. "Doctor, at one point in Terran history, everyone believed the Earth was flat and that one would fall off the edge if one sailed too far from shore."

McCoy was taken aback. "That's different."

Spock sniffed. "No, it is exactly the same." And then he resumed his trek up the stairs and rapped sharply using the old-fashioned door knocker.

Within ten seconds the door was opened by Jim Kirk. He looked faintly relieved to see them.

"I'm glad you're here. Come on in." And he moved aside to allow his friends to enter the narrow foyer before guiding them to the back of the house. "Listen, Bones, just shut up and don't say anything too offensive. If you piss Mia off, she can make your life miserable."

"How? By giving me the Evil Eye?" McCoy scoffed.

Kirk stopped sharply and glared at his best friend. "Shut up, Bones! You don't know a thing about Mia and you don't want to. Fine! I can accept that. But I don't want to hear you talking trash about her!"

McCoy was taken aback by the furiously passionate defence from his usually laid-back friend.

"I don't get it, Jim. You're not one to believe in superstition. There is no such thing as magic!"

"Maybe it is psi or esper powers, or maybe it is something else altogether, but, from what I've seen, the closest description of Mia's abilities is magic."

The older male frowned slightly. "Jim, how can you be so sure?"

Kirk shrugged. "I trust her."

"But why?" McCoy wanted to know.

For a moment McCoy thought his best friend would not answer. He and Spock followed the younger male into the kitchen, furnished in white, black, and steel and modern conveniences. They watched Kirk pour premade lemonade from a jug into three glasses and pass them out before sipping from one himself. They waited until he began speaking, eyes distant.

"I ran away when I was fifteen. I couldn't stay in Riverside for a lot of reasons. I hitchhiked part of the way and walked the rest to Iowa City. It was the middle of winter, and I was too scared of being recognized to go into any of the more populous public places to get warm. I started spending all day at the local libraries, cycling through all the branches so the librarians wouldn't catch on. I bumped into her quite often. She somehow persuaded me to give her tech and history lessons in exchange for food. She could have easily learnt the same stuff from the Net, but she didn't so that she'd have an excuse to feed me. She did not judge me or ask me why I was alone with no money or friends. When I ran into some trouble with the local gangs, she was there. She insisted I stay with her since I was incapable of staying out of trouble." He laughed softly. "Every time I ran away, she somehow tracked me down and hauled me back. I screamed and shouted and broke down and cried in the end. Somehow she made me feel less empty and broken and fragile. So I stayed and found out she could do…odd things. That was how she made money. It wasn't entirely legal, but I wasn't too interested in legalities."

Spock shifted minutely. "What sort of odd things, Mr. Kirk?"

Kirk did not answer but simply continued speaking. "It didn't last, of course. Winona found out I'd run away and informed the police. They found me and took me back." There was a slightly broken look in his blue eyes. "When Mia tried to stay in touch, Winona threatened to charge her with statutory rape. Not that anything like that ever happened between us!" he added hastily. "I felt safe with Mia. I could sleep and dream simple dreams, no nightmares, because nothing could hurt me when she was there. She could protect me from anything. But Winona had to show up and ruin everything."

McCoy was silent and slightly shaken by this bit of shared history.

"As soon as I was old enough to leave without being dragged back, I did. I used my hacking skills to track her down and hustled pool between less-than-legal jobs until I had enough credits for transportation." He flashed a smile at Spock. "I travelled with her. She insisted I go to school. I picked up enough credits for a computer engineering degree, mostly through online classes. I did the lab units on whatever campus was closest.

"I think the first thing Mia did in a new city was locate the local libraries and post-secondary institutions. Then she'd somehow introduce herself to a whole pack of people, making off-hand comments, exchanging favours and advice for access to the facilities. I ended up setting up several IDs and histories for her. Most of her academic history ended up being confirmed when she challenged the exams and got the credits for her degree."

McCoy shook his head. "I don't get it, Jim. If she is so bright, why doesn't she just study medicine or whatever interests her. There are grants and scholarships if she can't afford the fees."

Bright blue eyes turned towards McCoy before he got an answer.

"She doesn't have a history, Bones. She wasn't in any Federation database I hacked into. It's like she appeared out of nowhere."

McCoy stilled. "Amnesia?"

Kirk shrugged. "Or something like it. I'm pretty sure she remembers more than she's telling, but it wasn't like I spilled all of my guts to her, so I couldn't protest."

"You can't be serious, Jim," he growled. "Do you honestly expect me to believe this crap?"

"No. Would I like you to? Yes." McCoy huffed. Kirk ignored him. "Just follow me. Number One's in the backyard sunning."

"And your so-called witch?"

"Mia is upstairs examining Pike." He glanced at his watch. "She should be done by now."

He pushed open the glass sliding doors separating the kitchen from the backyard and stepped through. McCoy and Spock followed, watching him hurry down the interlocking brickwork steps and cross the green grass towards two women, a familiar mature brunette with sleek reddish-brown hair and a very unfamiliar, much younger one with a mass of curly light brown hair streaked with blond and chocolate.

~o~

Spock cha'Sarek froze upon seeing the younger unknown woman rise up from her seat, arms held out towards James Kirk. He could feel the subtle power of her intensify and build to a peak the moment she touched the cadet.

She was psi, a very high-level talent and very skilled. He could see the young male relaxing, kneeling in the grass at her feet as she sat down so that his face was easily within her reach. And she touched him. Spock was seized by the urge to pull the potential rival male away when he realized she was touching him as a Vulcan female would, a mother, an elder sister, a clan matriarch.

Fingertips dancing over the temple meld points, over the cheekbones and sinus pressure points, a thumb over the eyelids and up between the brows, long strokes along the cords of the throat and just under the collar of the grey Starfleet gym-T.

He watched as she stroked her hands over Kirk's shoulders and arms, down his chest and sides and back. A Terran would pass it off as an amateur massage, but Spock could sense the energy building and ebbing with each stroke. He could see the effect her actions had on Kirk, the subtle relaxation and reduced tension in him. Spock could see the younger male was moving less stiffly now, twisting his torso when before he had been very careful to avoid performing a similar motion. Somehow her touch must have healed the bruises and damage, or at least numbed the ever-present pain.

"And how have you been, James? The last few weeks must have been tremendously stressful." Her voice was unexpectedly deep and husky, rich with empathy and compassion.

It sent shivers up Spock's spine. It also re-ignited his compulsion to toss Kirk aside and take his place at her feet. The Vulcan resisted the urge to shudder. She clearly had a very powerful and dominating personality. He straightened a fraction and focused on cataloguing his observations.

"Fine, now that you're here," Kirk admitted softly before shifting closer to rest his head on her lap.

Her expression softened as she carded her fingers through thick wheat-blond hair.

"Oh, sweetie…" she sighed, cupping the back of his neck, "I can't always be there with you. You must learn to cope without me."

Kirk shook his head, burying his face in her lap. "Nuh uh." His voice was muffled. "I tried that before. I went on several weeks-long benders. The last one ended with me enlisting in Starfleet."

"But sweetie, it looks like Starfleet has made something of you." She tugged his head up, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Can you honestly say you don't like who you are right now?" Kirk shook his head in the negative. "Then you are in the right place."

"But I don't like being away from you," he grumbled. "I can't comm you when I want. And a shipboard posting means I'll rarely get to see you."

"Listen to me, sweetie. It's just growing nerves. You were in a very bad place when we first met. It is natural to cling to something familiar and stable. But, by that same token, it is natural to grow out of the nest and spread your wings." She cupped his cheeks with both hands. "And you have definitely grown out of the nest and soared high. I'm so proud of you! Your achievements have gone beyond Exceeds Expectations." She laughed softly. "You deserve an Outstanding!" And she kissed him on the forehead soundly before rising, tugging him with her. "Now, why don't you introduce me to your friends." Dark brown eyes glinting with flecks of red and gold turned towards Spock.

She was looking straight at him. An almost triangular face with straight eyebrows, a long, narrow nose pointing down to full unpainted lips and a defined, clefted chin, a knowing look in dark brown eyes, a small, composed smile curving her lips. Her light brown hair was streaked haphazardly in various shades of brown and blond. The tresses around her hairline were twisted into two thin braids at her temples that were pinned behind each ear with small clips allowing the bulk of it to flow and move freely around her shoulders and down her back.

She was not too tall, the top of her head coming to several inches below Kirk's. Spock estimated she would only come up to his chin in bare feet. And she was the very image of the Gryffindor Princess. And Spock dearly wanted to yank her away from the childish cadet.

Kirk grinned broadly. "Mia, meet Doctor Leonard McCoy and Commander Spock cha'Sarek." He indicated each of them in turn. "Bones, Spock, meet…." He turned to her with an inquiring look.

"Jean Evans." The intimate softness was dominated by a clipped, vaguely British accent.

McCoy nodded brusquely. "Miss Evans."

"Doctor McCoy." Her tone was just as clipped. Then she turned towards Spock, her expression settled into a polite mask, though her eyes were as open as ever. "Commander." Her hands and body shifted into the correct position of a neutral outsider entering clan lands. "_I grieve with thee and thy people. For your loss and suffering_."

Spock did not blink as he murmured the traditional responses. His mind was focused on an extraneous fact. She knew the Old Ways taught only within the Clans, never to outsiders. But how? Did she have an alliance with some other Vulcan clan? Had any survived the destruction of Vulcan? These were questions only she could answer.

She folded her hands and waited, her head inclined at the perfect angle, her posture the exact duplicate of any high-class Vulcan clan daughter. As per tradition she would be required to hold the position until released or requested to fulfil a task by the griever. This was the perfect opportunity to secure the answers he sought, but, by doing so, he would only drive her away. He had to secure her trust first.

So he voiced a more innocuous request.

"Cadet Kirk calls you Mia. It does not resemble the usual Terran-style name contraction."

She was silent before she answered. "It isn't. It is from my birth name, Hermione. I usually go by Jean, which is my middle name."

Spock inclined his head in understanding. Another bit of evidence proving she was the same female about whom Q had told them.

"You are a powerful psi. I can sense it," Spock announced abruptly.

She smiled faintly. "And so are you to have felt it. I understood Vulcans were primarily touch-telepaths."

"We are. But there are always outliers who do not fit the usual Bell curve."

She inclined her head.

McCoy shifted, drawing their attention before speaking. "I don't know who or what you are, and I don't really care at this point as long as you aren't feeding false hopes."

She turned to the doctor with a cooler, more challenging expression. "I do not lie or beat around the bush. I never promise guarantees, only a chance." She turned to Number One. "I had a look at Chris, and I'm not going to lie. He's in really bad shape. Pure physical trauma has fewer complications and is relatively straightforward. This case is different." She hesitated. "I'm going to need supplies and tools I don't have because they are too expensive or restricted."

Number One nodded firmly. "I thought so." She produced a credit wafer. "Use this for any purchases. If it is not enough or you need leverage, let me or Jim know."

"Or myself." Spock announced. Everyone turned to stare at him with varying degrees of disbelief. "Captain Pike is my friend; he has been my advisor and mentor ever since I studied at the Academy."

Jean Evans' expression softened. "Of course. I am uncertain of your commitments. I'm sure you have other priorities, your people…" she trailed off hesitantly.

Spock inclined his head. "You are correct. But I still wish to assist you in your endeavours."

She stared hesitantly, glancing at Kirk, who gave a tiny nod. She turned to him and nodded. "If it is your desire."

"It is."

She picked up a PADD lying on the grass and held it out to him. "These are the supplies I need. The ones in bold are absolutely essential. The items just below and indented are acceptable substitutes."

Spock scanned the list quickly. Most were minerals or raw botanicals, with the occasional animal matter. The majority looked to be items that could be purchased in traditional markets or from a horticultural company. Some looked unfamiliar but Spock was certain he could make any questionable purchases through the Vulcan Embassy. The minerals… He looked up at her.

"The plant and animal matter will not be of great concern. Most can be purchased in the traditional markets. Little India or Chinatown," he announced. "Gemstones cannot be bought in a similar fashion."

She nodded. "I understand. Rose quartz would be an acceptable substitute for amethyst."

"Very well. Do you have any other requirements regarding your supplies?"

"They must be as fresh as possible. Store them in glass containers or raw silk. Try to avoid using transporters. A medical stasis containment unit would be okay. Wrap the crystals and rods in raw silk as well. I will need access to a metal workshop and power tools to build a few things once I have the supplies, as well."

Number One nodded. "That can easily be arranged. I'll just book one of the machine shops on Campus. Just let me know the best day and time for you."

McCoy sighed. "Stop by my office in Medical Building A, and you can pick up a portable stasis unit. I'll let Chapel know you're going to be borrowing one."

Kirk smiled brightly. "Thanks, Bones!"

Evans turned to Kirk. "Go with Commander Spock. You know what to do."

Kirk nodded and took the credit wafer from Number One before glancing up at Spock. "When is a good time for you?"

Spock thought for a moment. "Today, 1430 hours."

"Sounds good. I'll meet you at Wongs Restaurant on Sixth and Tenth." He brushed a quick kiss against the curly-haired brunette. "I'll see you later, Mia."

Spock inclined his head. "I must take my leave now, as well. It would be prudent to do some research to locate potential suppliers outside San Francisco."

McCoy grumbled. "Since I'm here, I may as well do a check-up on Pike as well."

Number One nodded. "I'll show you up." She glanced at Evans. "What about you?"

"I need to meditate for a few hours," the younger woman confessed. "Scanning Chris was stressful. The damage and trauma…" she trailed off.

"Go and meditate," Number One urged. "I'll come up and get you when dinner is ready."

"Thanks."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Later that same day, Spock debated the best way of securing information from Cadet Kirk without him being aware. They had just finished purchasing everything they could in San Francisco's Chinatown and were on their way to order Chinese take-out for themselves and the Pike household. After considering and discarding several alternatives, Spock decided to settle on the direct route.

"Mr. Kirk. May I make a personal query about your relationship with Jean Evans?"

Kirk's shoulders hunched defensively. "We're just friends, so don't you dare make any nasty insinuations about her taking advantage–"

"I do not have any questions regarding that," Spock interrupted uncharacteristically. He did not even want to consider the possibility of the Gryffindor Princess being in a relationship with the unruly human cadet.

Kirk looked confused. "Then what do you want to know?"

"You mentioned you met her in Iowa City when you were fifteen."

"Yeah."

"And you rejoined her once you achieved your majority."

"Yeah."

"And you travelled and studied with her."

"Yeah."

"What did she study?"

Blue eyes widened in comprehension. "Everything. But she was more interested in theoretical sciences and xenohistory." He looked away. "I think she actually got formal credentials as a naturopath and counsellor. From some obscure college in Japan."

"But she is not registered with any association." Kirk cocked a brow. "I checked. Jean Evans is not part of any medical or therapeutic professional organization."

Kirk shrugged. "She wouldn't be. She doesn't trust organized authority to do what is right for her. For the majority, yes. So she doesn't stay in one place long enough for anyone in the medical community to notice and make inquiries. Everyone knows her first rule is confidentiality and privacy. Anyone who breaks it is in for a really nasty streak of bad luck."

Spock considered Kirk's claims. "Vulcans do not believe in luck."

"Yeah? Maybe Vulcan's don't, but humans do. And when everything goes consistently wrong, even a non-believer turns into a believer and is very contrite." Kirk snickered. "Simon Miller's wife certainly was very contrite after her two-month-long bad hair day." Spock looked confused, so Kirk expanded. "Nicole Miller is a gossip, but Mia felt sorry for their granddaughter, so she took on the case. But when the tabloid rags came visiting, Mrs. Miller's hair dye turned her hair green, then orange before it fell out. She begged and begged, but Mia refused to undo whatever she had done. It looked like short orange fuzz for a month before it grew out and started to look half-way normal."

"There are chemicals that can create such effects," Spock allowed.

Kirk scoffed. "Yeah. But no doctor or stylist could figure it out and undo it. Nicole Miller definitely learnt her lesson. Last I heard, she could be a model for zipped lips. She doesn't gossip anymore. Actually, she still does, but not about confidential things. I think that's one of the reasons why Simon Miller was promoted to Admiral last year."

Spock frowned. "You mentioned she distrusts organizations. However, she did not display any such qualms regarding your enlistment in Starfleet."

"It's different. I'm just a run-of-the-mill human. George Kirk's son and a genius, but still human. She…isn't. Not entirely," Kirk admitted. "I think she might be a hybrid of some sort. She has some odd quirks in her DNA, but nothing alien from the Federation databases."

"Has she indicated anything about alien ancestry?" Spock wanted to know.

"Nothing concrete. Just odd little quirks." Jim flashed a smile. "You'll see it yourself. She doesn't like replicators or transporters. And I really don't know how she does it, but given time and incentive, she can destroy a starship's electrical systems. I've seen PADDs fall apart or fry when she's angry. And when she's really pissed, little lightening sparks fly from her hair."

Spock considered the information. Everything Kirk described were indications of a powerful psi talent, one strong enough to affect the physical world. But to control such power, she had to have been trained. Just where and how had she received such training in twentieth-century Earth? Or did she receive it in the twenty-third century?

"Did she say anything of her past?"

Kirk shrugged. "Not really. Sometimes she mentions people and places I've never heard of. Some guy named Harry. I think he might have been a boyfriend. And a few teachers. They had odd names: Minerva, Filius, Septima, Bathsheba, Poppy. She talked about her old school. She said it was a boarding school housed in a castle in Scotland. Every year was divided into groups called Houses that provided some structure and support for the younger students and competed against other Houses. She said she was in Gryffindor. I looked but I never found anything even remotely similar. I'm not sure how much is real and how much she dreamed up to fill in the blanks."

Spock was silent. He was almost certain now that Jean Evans had been telling Kirk the truth. A castle in Scotland fit some of the images in the painting. And Gryffindor. Q had called her the Gryffindor Princess.

"You did not mention this to Doctor McCoy," he pointed out neutrally.

Kirk snorted. "Yeah, because he'd jump on her for being delusional." He stared at Spock. "Look, she isn't hurting anyone and has a pretty firm grip on present reality. She might have dreamt up some wild things to fill in the blanks in her past, but it isn't hurting anyone. She isn't claiming to be Archer's long lost granddaughter or the President's lovechild."

Spock nodded. "Understood." He understood far more than Kirk ever would. Jean Evans was almost certainly the time displaced woman described by Q. And given that she had confirmed her name was Hermione… Sarek had theorized her true birth name was Hermione Granger. He stilled. Sarek had to be informed of these new developments.

He pulled out his PADD and composed a message requesting a meeting with his father.

Spock was very aware of Kirk trying to read the message. He could not, as the text was in Vulcan script.

"Is that a message for Uhura?" He inquired casually.

"My father."

"Oh."

The curt response was enough to repress the usually irrepressible cadet.

Once the message was complete, Spock attached the mostly crossed-off supplies list. Sarek would have more resources to secure the more expensive and restricted items on the list. It would only help to demonstrate his sincerity, Vulcan's sincerity.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

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	3. Rituals and Healings

Summary: Spock gets some advice, Sarek's suspicions are confirmed, T'Pau makes plans, and Spock Prime gets surprised.

AN: Near the end of Reboot the Movie. Between the _Narada_'s destruction and Kirk gaining Captaincy of the _Enterprise_.

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

**~ooO Rituals and Healings Ooo~**

Spock knelt on the bamboo mat, his attention set on calming the turmoil of his thoughts and stray emotions. As the tension faded, he considered the events of the day.

The first meeting had been a shock. The Gryffindor Princess was everything that had been implied and much more. Q had stated that she had abilities, but T'Pau and Sarek and Spock had not even considered the depth and range of her talents.

She was a True Healer. He had observed proof of it with his own senses. Growing tired of Doctor McCoy's snide comments, Jim Kirk had insisted his friend scan him. The results were astonishing. There was no visible trace of any injury. The only proof was months-old, completely-healed wounds. Kirk had been injured on Delta Vega and suffered some complications due to infection in the slash wounds. McCoy had not been able to heal them using the usual dermal regenerator therapy. Kirk stripped his shirt off to reveal bare skin marked by faint white scars and no trace of bandages or nuskin coverings. Spock had read the reports himself. McCoy had estimated it would take three months for Kirk's wounds to heal cleanly.

She had presence and influence. From Kirk's comments, it was how she operated, forming a network of contacts and allies, owing and being owed favours by offering her services as an unlicensed Healer, therapist and advisor to individuals and families from all social strata and walks of life. If Sarek would not assist in procuring the rarer components, Kirk confided that she could do it herself. It would take longer and use some of her favours, but she could do it.

Spock had not spent a great deal of time in her presence, just seventeen point four minutes in the morning and one point two five hours in the evening, but it did not make a difference regarding her influence. Spock had no disbelief regarding Kirk's claims, his decision to stay with her as a teen and to follow her upon reaching legal maturity. She exuded an aura of tranquility, stability and hope. And she did not restrict it to a select few. It took point four three hours, but she eventually relaxed enough to generate the atmosphere; one strong enough to have an effect on Spock, a hybrid raised to follow Vulcan Disciplines.

A subtle ripple attracted his attention. He allowed his hands to fall from the meditation pose and opened his eyes. She was kneeling before him on the carpeted floor, sitting back on her heels, hands resting on her thighs, her visage calm and knowing.

The instinct to lean forward and reach out to touch her, to meld with her, stake a claim and bind her to him, was all-encompassing. Spock barely managed to stop himself from reaching out and touching her. The uncharacteristic impulse was not diminishing with familiarity, only increasing in intensity.

"How may I assist you?"

She frowned slightly. "Is that the only reason why you believe I am here?"

Spock considered her question. "No. But you are not inconsiderate enough to interrupt a meditation session without good reason."

She inclined her head. "You are correct, Commander."

"Spock." Her eyes widened slightly. "You are not in Starfleet and, therefore, are not required to observe formalities such as rank."

"Very well. Spock." She paused to gather her thoughts before continuing. "I did some additional research on the best way to treat Chris."

"You did mention it would be different from your usual methods," Spock noted.

She nodded. "Yes." She held up her hands, palms up. "Most of the time I heal using what old faith-healers would call laying-of-hands. I touch someone and send my energy into them. It is more potent than the patient's natural energy, so I can 'channel' it into specific actions."

Spock nodded. "That is similar to the practices of Vulcan Healers. Have you tried healing non-Terrans?"

She blinked, taken aback. "Yes. But only uncomplicated physical trauma. I assure you, I did study a great deal of xenobiology and medical literature before attempting it."

"A reasonable course of action." Spock paused. "You were discussing your healing methods?"

She nodded. "Yes. Well Chris is too badly injured for a laying-of-hands to work. I need to perform a ritual to boost the effects." She held out a PADD. "Here are the details of what is required, before, during and after."

Spock quickly scanned the open file. The design of the structures and layout. The steps to prepare the grounds and tools. A brief overview of the ceremony itself. The possible effects (exhaustion, hunger, collapse). The input required from external associates (energy via an unspecified biofeedback technique). It was simple and unexpectedly elegant, yet elaborate. She was not requiring anything other than presence and support. A subsection provided the details of the best date-times and locations.

"You have listed the Vulcan Embassy as a suitable location for the ritual. Access can be arranged given twenty-four hours notice."

"You can arrange that?"

"Yes. Sarek is Vulcan's Ambassador Plenipotentiary to the Federation. He is also my father." Spock tapped the PADD to review some of the details. "You have specified the need for additional individuals to add to the outer circle. Would you consent for others, Vulcans, to witness? They would be honoured to participate in and witness a Healing."

She stared at him, shocked. "I don't mind." She spoke hesitantly before gaining confidence. "But please explain your request. I thought Vulcans were all logical and scientific. Why do you so readily believe that I—a human—have the same abilities as a Vulcan Healer? With no evidence or demonstration? I mean, everyone knows most humans are psi-nulls. And why would your people be interested in my talents? You have your own Healers."

Brown eyes met brown. His voice was grave, with no trace of hesitation, as he explained.

"What do you know of Vulcan psi-abilities?"

She frowned faintly. "You're touch telepaths and really big about privacy, and skin-on-skin contact is a bit no-no. There are, were, temples and monasteries, but no one has confirmed the true heart of Vulcan spirituality or religion."

Spock inclined his head. "As a race, we moved from emotion and religion towards logic and science. But even so, certain traditions and rituals persist to this day." He shifted his legs into a crossed pose. "Vulcans do not consider death to be the end of existence. Our souls, our katras, are carried by another when we die. After the mourning rituals have been performed, the katra is stored in a special container called a Katric Ark." He hesitated. "With Vulcan destroyed, most of the Arks and all the katras contained therein were lost. I have not heard of any plans to replace the Arks. I am uncertain if there will be alterations in the death rituals in the near future."

Evans stared at him, curious. "Is there a purpose for containing the katras?"

He inclined his head. "Yes. Descendants, scholars, elders, scientists… anyone with a purpose can request to commune with ancestral katras, to gain a perspective or alternate view of a difficult situation, to come to a logical and practical solution." He considered the best way to explain. "All Vulcans have the ability to self-trance, to put themselves into a specific metabolic and mental state to heal their injuries, mental and physical. There are cases where bondmates are able to share their resources so that a severely injured partner survives."

Brown eyes were very wide and intent. She made an odd gesture before indicating that he should continue.

"My people value privacy, and most actions that violate that privacy are considered taboo. Healing is one of the exceptions. Healers form a shallow mind-meld with the patient and encourage the body to heal using their personal resources, usually when injuries have caused psychological blocks or a self-trance has failed. As in any profession, there are a few who are more skilled and capable than the rest. These healers are ranked as Adepts; below them are Masters, Practitioners, and Students. Adepts can heal injuries that modern medicine would consider untreatable, much like Captain Pike's condition." He paused to make sure she comprehended the information. She did. "The last living Healing Adept is two hundred eighty-seven Standard years old. Fortunately, she survived the destruction of Vulcan."

Evans inclined her head. "May I know her name?"

Spock hesitated before answering. "It is X'mjn H'twl T'Rin."

Her lips curved, shaping the syllables silently several times before testing her pronunciation out loud. "X'mjn H'twl T'Rin."

"Yes."

She was silent before voicing the question Spock could sense.

"Can Vulcans do other things? Than telepathy and healing, I mean."

Spock inclined his head in affirmative.

"Yes. Truly powerful katras can influence more than their own bodies, more than those in direct physical contact. They can shape the physical world. They can shape the katras of those around them, for good or ill." Spock hesitated before continuing. "In Ancient times, such individuals were highly sought after by warring clans, as mates and allies."

She nodded slowly. "How odd. On Earth, humans feared or hated those who were different, stronger, or more capable."

"On Vulcan, ninety-eight point one two percent of the population were psis of varying strengths. Powerful psis on a planet of psi-nulls would have been an oddity and feared," Spock pointed out mildly.

"You are correct." Her gaze drifted, her expression distant, before refocusing. "And what about in recent history?"

"The ways of ahkhinahr and nashinahr have been mostly lost for centuries. Only traces of foshinahr still remain since Vulcan's destruction. Mostly in the surviving priesthood and Elders who practice the highest degrees of Mind Arts and Healing."

She bowed her head. "I grieve with thee." She held her hands out, palms up. "When I heard of what happened, it was a terrible shock. And then, when I thought about it more clinically, I wondered how this universe has lasted without similar destruction. Then I remembered that war and battle and death are endemic to the mortal condition. There is no such thing as paradise; not when we are alive, and perhaps not after we are dead."

Spock bowed his head and clenched his fists. He would not lose control. He would not shame his clan, his ancestry, his race…

Then he felt a slight pressure against his clothed forearm. And he felt the soothing presence of her infuse him with calm. She projected none of the typical emotional turmoil and thoughts of a psi-null human.

"Spock."

He looked up. Her expression was kind and non-judgemental. A very familiar expression. Something his mother had often displayed during the more trying moments of his youth.

"Would you listen to advice from someone who has only the best of intentions?"

He nodded shallowly.

"Then listen to me, Spock cha'Sarek. You are a child of two races, both Human and Vulcan. Do not diminish yourself by rejecting part of what you are, by only embracing part of your heritage. You must accept that logic is the beginning of wisdom, not the end result. And, as Einstein said, 'Wisdom is not the product of schooling but the life-long attempt to acquire it.'"

Spock pulled back, but her expression remained serene and soothing.

"Do not try to repress and contain your grief and anger. It is impossible and ultimately very dangerous. You are not processing your feelings but denying them. Sooner or later they will build to levels you cannot ignore, and you will lose control." Spock stilled, remembering a moment when just that had happened. On the bridge of the _Enterprise_. Seeing that her words were sinking in, she continued. "There is an old human saying… 'Sorrow shared is sorrow halved, joy shared is joy doubled.' You have followed the Vulcan way for so long, isn't it time you tried the human way?"

Spock went very still, biting back the reflexive protest that he was Vulcan and would follow Vulcan traditions. He remembered what his father had told him on the _Enterprise_.

_You will always be a child of two worlds. I am grateful for this, and for you … I married her because I loved her._

He was vaguely aware of her rising and moving away. He did not try to engage her in an extended debate. She had left him with much to consider.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Sarek cha'Skon frowned slightly as he listened to the message from his son. Then his eyes widened slightly as he continued reading. He read the attached text file very carefully, making notes, sending off messages to his aides and other parties. Once he was done, he opened the image file attached to his son's message.

It depicted a young human woman, attractive but not classically perfect, with curly, light brown hair and deep brown eyes. She was dressed in a pale blue long-sleeved t-shirt, standing next to a younger Terran with lighter hair, dressed in a grey t-shirt emblazoned with the Starfleet insignia. Sarek's interest was more focused on the female than the male.

She was the very image of a silk-screened painting stored in his private safe in the San Francisco branch of the Vulcan Embassy.

The Gryffindor Princess.

After some thought, he typed another message and attached the files from Spock before sending it off. T'Pau needed to be informed.

Eleven point two seven minutes later, his PADD pinged softly, indicating an incoming message.

It was from T'Pau granting his request to open the Embassy to Jean Evans and her associates. To assist the newfound Healer in any way possible. And to update her once he had the opportunity to speak to her directly.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Sarek watched as Jean Evans guided her colleagues with a firm and precise hand. Everyone had a specific sequence of tasks, a role to play. She allowed Spock to assist her in marking out the circle on the hard compact clay in chalk before going over it with a thick paintbrush and a bowl filled with reddish liquid she had prepared just minutes before; a mixture containing a large amount of her own blood, freshly drawn by Doctor McCoy.

He watched Spock clench his hands reflexively when James Kirk assisted the Healer in stripping off her garments. He watched her stand in only tight grey shorts and a matching sports bra, permitting James Kirk to paint various symbols all over her using a thick, dark fluid with an iridescent undertone. Along her arms, legs, front, and back, on her cheeks and forehead as well. The glyphs were not Vulcan, but Sarek could sense the power, the building energy density. So could Spock, given how carefully he was maintaining his distance from her.

When she finally looked up, even the Terrans could see the power building within her. Her eyes were flickering pools, the irises faded to the palest of browns, so that they were almost gold. She held a hand up and made a gesture. The glyphs painted on that arm exploded with light before fading to reveal the symbols shimmering on her pale skin.

Sarek had watched her prepare the mixture himself, with materials purchased by his son or his aides. There was nothing in them that could create this effect. It was entirely from her.

"James." Her voice was low and hoarse. It was the signal for everyone to move closer, to stand between the two rings drawn on hard red clay using sea salt and charcoal.

Sarek himself moved to his pre-designated position marked out in the circle.

She picked up a prepared bowl of reddish fluid and an unused brush and moved to stand before her primary assistant.

"Do you offer what is yours freely? To heal Christopher Jacob Pike, lifelong friend, valued colleague, or trusted ally as it may be?"

Kirk's response was instantaneous. "Yes."

She painted glyphs on his forehead and cheeks. Once she was satisfied, she took a step back and spoke. "Then it is accepted. Stand and do not falter James Tiberius Kirk."

Kirk staggered slightly but regained his balance. The painted symbols shimmered iridescently on his skin in varying pastel hues with no traces of red.

Then she moved to the next person in the circle and repeated the dialogue. Then the next, and the next, until she had marked all eight individuals standing within the rings.

James Tiberius Kirk.

Simon Edwin Miller.

Phillip Walter Boyce.

Illyria Annette Xanamaha.

S'chn T'gai Spahk of House Surak.

S'chn T'gai Sarek of House Surak.

V'lyn S'rwt Velek of House Surak.

T'mch S'wqn T'Pel of House Surak.

Sarek heard sparks and small explosions and Doctor Leonard McCoy cursing from his position outside the circle. The biosensors Doctor McCoy had insisted all participants wear had just shorted out.

He watched as the Healer ignored the Doctor, completely intent on her patient lying in the center of the circle, his head pointing north and feet south, arms pointing towards east and west. She stood over Captain Pike, straddling his waist, the designs on her skin coruscating fiercely like an almost living thing, a faint golden haze surrounding her.

The soft sub-vocal chanting in some unknown language was audible and very distinct, almost resonant. Then the designs painted on the ground began shimmering, and the crystals glowed, giving off heat and white light. And they were nearly blinded. The humans cried out and nearly fell when their knees buckled. Each and every Vulcan felt a similar rapid drain, though the Vulcans were less badly affected than the humans.

She had initiated a Shared Healing, drawing on resources through temporary bonds formed between them and her. Sarek reached out and tentatively 'touched' the new matrix in his mindscape. He could sense each of the others, some shining more vividly or more intensely than the others. He was pleased to note his son was both. James Kirk was more vivid, but Spock was both vivid and intense. His kinsfolk were quietly intense but not overly vivid. But beyond that, Sarek could sense the enormous will guiding, shaping, holding the matrix together, the power behind the placid façade, the ruthless implacable drive to achieve her goals even if she drained her allies to the dregs. But never demanding more than what she herself gave.

The heat was building. The humans were being negatively affected by now, their lungs drying and straining to compensate. Her voice was harsher, almost guttural, and raspy. Sarek could feel his own control faltering and drew on his reserves.

Just when he thought his control would break, he felt the matrix shatter and release them.

Several of the humans collapsed where they stood. Sarek heard Doctor McCoy curse loudly and colourfully as he hurried over to them. Sarek was more interested in the Healer.

She had fallen on her knees, straddling the unconscious Captain Pike on her hands and knees. A most inappropriate position for an unbonded female. The iridescent glyphs and marks painted on her skin were fading, sublimating into glittering dust floating off her skin, vanishing once they were more than two inches from her. She pushed off one hand, angling so that she fell heavily on the compact clay, bruising one hip and scraping the outside of one thigh. Groaning softly, she levered herself up off the ground on one hand.

She hissed between clenched teeth and ran her free hand over the fresh bleeding scrapes. A soft green glow shone from between her fingers, under her palm, as she ran her hand over her leg. When the light faded there was no trace of the shredded skin or blood. The muscles in her torso and arms quivered just before giving way. She fell back heavily, with just enough control to keep the back of her head from hitting the ground.

"Mia!"

James Kirk dodged the doctor's restraining grip long enough to crawl towards the Healer.

Sarek heard Spock growl, a low feral sound. The distinctly displeased sound of a Vulcan male witnessing a rival approach an unbonded female he desired. The older Vulcan shifted, ready to act in the event Spock lost control.

The Healer sensed it as well, for she was quick to intercede.

"No, James. Let Doctor McCoy check up on you." She caught the attention of the other human woman present. "Lyri, a little help here."

The older woman nodded and staggered forward to assist the Healer. Sarek would have done so himself but was concerned about setting off Spock. He glanced at his kinswoman, T'Pel. She moved forward, stripping off the outer layer of her robes before kneeling next to the Healer.

With the assistance of both women, the Healer was on her feet and covered from neck to feet in the over-sized robe. Then they helped her move outside the circle and sit in one of the folding chairs procured by Spock. The Healer accepted a glass of water from Spock and drank it quickly. Without being asked, Spock refilled it, and this time she drank it more slowly.

"Thank you," she murmured.

"Thanks are illogical," Spock responded automatically.

She did not take offence like Doctor McCoy or most humans would have. In fact, she just looked amused, like Amanda had when Sarek had responded similarly.

"They might be illogical to you, but they are an acknowledgment for humans. An indication that the recipient recognizes and appreciates the service provided. You are Vulcan and exceptional. You are certain to receive a lot of compliments in the future. Learn to accept them gracefully. It will reduce awkward moments in the future."

Spock nodded shallowly, absorbing her explanation.

The Vulcans looked thoughtful at her words, placing human social graces into their relevant context.

Sarek was pleased. She was not xenophobic or Terran-centric. She did not take offence but gently provided logical explanations and suggestions.

There was silence as Doctor McCoy finished his examination. He joined the small group with a bemused by pleased expression.

"I can't explain it, but Pike's nerves are regenerating. The worst of the nerve and tissue damage is healed, but he still has a way to go. He will probably have a limp and need a cane, but he will be able to walk without other external aids." He turned to the Healer. "I apologise for the way I treated you."

She waved a hand. "Do not. You were only protecting your patient and friends."

"Yeah, well, if there is anything I can do, just let me know."

She straightened and looked straight at McCoy, her expression focused, eyes penetrating.

"There is something you can do, Doctor."

"What?"

"Don't tell anyone of what you've seen." McCoy opened his mouth to protest, but the Healer continued without giving him a chance. "I mean it, Doctor. Let this be another medical miracle, a misdiagnosis, whatever, but I don't want anyone in the Federation bureaucracy or the medical community to know who healed Chris." Her expression was hard and pointed. "If others find out, I will know who is responsible. Simon, Jim, Lyri and Chris have known for years and have kept their lips zipped. And I'm certain the Vulcans will honour my request for privacy."

"Of course," Sarek murmured agreeably. "It would be illogical to deny your basic rights."

McCoy went red. "But do you know how many people there are with similar injuries? They deserve–"

A sharp crack interrupted McCoy's rant as the Healer slammed her hand against her thigh. "They do not deserve a damn thing." Her expression was very hard and unforgiving. "No one deserves more than the right to shelter, food, safety, standard medical care and a basic education. Everything else is earned and paid for."

McCoy sputtered, but she continued, ignoring his incoherence.

"I am not a doctor. I have made no vows to heal everyone who comes to me requesting my services. I do not heal every single wounded being that crosses my path. If I did, I'd be dead or insane within two years." McCoy went still. "I am not exaggerating, Doctor. Every time I heal, I use my personal energy and resources. It takes me weeks to completely recover from healing because I always accept the impossible cases. My skills are unique, and I am the only supplier since Vulcan Healers rarely left the planet or accepted off-world patients. I pick and choose cases that provide more than monetary benefits."

"Favours." The word was a curse, but the Healer took no offence.

"Yes. My clients are either wealthy or connected. I do not apologize for it. Any truly skilled specialist in the private sector works in the same way." She drew herself together and turned to Kirk. "I would like to go back to Pike's place. I need to eat and rest. Lyri can go with Doctor McCoy and Chris to the hospital for a more thorough examination."

Sarek decided it was an opportune moment to intervene.

"You do not have to leave, Healer." The humans turned towards him with surprised expressions. Sarek focused on the subject of his interest, the Healer. "You can use one of the embassy rooms to rest and recover. The dietician on staff can prepare a suitable meal for you."

She considered the offer and nodded. "Thank you. I believe I will take you up on that."

Slowly she levered herself off the chair, not completely managing to hide the pain the effort caused her. Before the humans could react, his son was beside her, one hand under her forearm, the other around her waist. With a soft sigh, she slumped against him, resting her head against his chest.

"Please forgive any transference," she murmured. "My shields are not at their best."

"Understood," Spock murmured before looking up at Sarek. "Room 15B on the main floor?"

"It is the closest unused room."

Spock nodded and deftly began moving away, holding the Healer close. T'Pel followed the pair to provide her assistance and to chaperone.

Kirk watched the small group move away, frowning slightly. "You have an unused room? I thought the embassy was packed with…" He trailed off, unwilling to say the words refugee or survivor.

"Room 15B is part of my personal suite," Sarek explained calmly. "To be more precise, it is Spock's old room. It is currently being used by T'Pau, who will be in Paris for the next three days. I believe the Healer will be sufficiently recovered to move back to her usual lodgings tomorrow morning."

Kirk blushed. "Oh!" Then he glanced at McCoy. "Bones, why don't you and Number One take Chris to the hospital? I'll pack an overnight bag for Mia and drop it off before joining you."

Sarek inclined his head. "When you return, anyone will be able to direct you to my suite."

"Okay then." Kirk rubbed his hands. "I better get going then."

Sarek watched the humans disperse before giving instructions to remove all traces of the ritual and to pack up and secure all the tools and components in one of the embassy storage rooms. Then he returned to his own private room for a meditation session. He had much to consider.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

When Hermione woke, the first thing she saw was a tray of food. Cream of broccoli soup in an insulated container, cheese, lettuce and tomato sandwiches, and crisp veggies with various dips. She had eaten before sleeping, but her body still needed to replace what she had lost in the ritual. A shower could wait.

After satisfying her hunger, she explored the simple bedroom. Given the contents of the dresser drawers and closet, it belonged to a Vulcan male. She located her personal duffel bag and selected a fresh outfit before hurrying into the refresher. She was glad the embassy had both water and sonic facilities. If there was one thing she hated about the future, it was sonics. Intellectually she knew sonics worked, but they never made her feel 'clean' like water showers.

Thirty minutes later, she emerged from the refresher dressed in a long ankle-length denim skirt, a matching long-sleeved denim shirt embroidered with red and yellow flowers, and slide-on clogs. Her head was wrapped in a towel. Jim had forgotten to pack her hairdryer, and the original occupant had either taken his dryer with him or didn't use one.

She had just finished off the last sandwich and was working on the tray of veggies when the door intercom chimed.

"Come."

The door slid open to reveal Ambassador Sarek.

Hastily she pushed the tray aside, brushing the crumbs off the bed.

"How may I assist you, Ambassador?"

"I wish to discuss a certain matter with you."

Hermione's guard went up. "Could you be more specific?"

Sarek hesitated. That alone made Hermione nervous.

"What do you know of your past? My son and James Kirk implied you are an amnesiac."

That was enough to set off warning klaxons. Hermione hesitated. Sarek was clearly more familiar with human behaviour because he was quick to reassure her.

"If you desire privacy, I will respect your request."

"Can you tell me why you wish to know?" Hermione queried slowly, trying to stall.

He studied her intently before inclining his head. "I can." He produced a chip from a sleeve pocket and inserted it into a holoframe hanging on one wall. The desert skyline image shimmered and went blank as Sarek tapped in new commands.

Hermione froze when she saw the new image projected within the frame. It was a collage. Of her. At Hogwarts, as a student and after the war. At a Ministry Ball. In St Mungo's medical library. In the DMLE practice duelling arena.

"Where did you get this?"

"It is a copy of a painting lost when Vulcan was destroyed. The original was given to my clan matriarch, T'Pau, when she was young and unbonded."

Hermione had to know. "Who gave it to her?"

Sarek stared at her. The witch was tempted to rip the answers she sought from his mind. But she restrained herself and waited. After twenty seconds, Sarek spoke.

"An omnipotent being called Q gave it to T'Pau. He said the Gryffindor Princess would be important to my clan, to Vulcan one day."

Hermione sagged. Her knees gave out, and she sat down sharply on the edge of the bed.

"Q?" Her voice was thin and reedy.

Sarek looked concerned. "Yes. Have you heard of them?"

"No," Hermione confessed. "How can you be certain he was omnipotent?"

"I can't. He never made a second appearance. But it was what he said that intrigued T'Pau. He said you were important. And a disruptive influence in the past."

Hermione closed her eyes. It was a while before she gained enough control to open them. To meet Sarek's steady gaze.

"You know."

"That you were born before the Eugenics Wars? Yes."

"Who else knows?"

"Only T'Pau and Spock know everything, though five other kinsfolk know some details. Three were part of the Healing." Hermione nodded. Satisfied, Sarek continued. "Q appeared to T'Pau, my paternal grandmother. She informed me, and I informed Spock, my son."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. She was getting close to the answers she had been looking for. Tears pooled as she voiced the one question that had kept her wondering.

"Why?"

Sarek did not respond until after he had moved a chair to about three feet in front of her, well inside the usual Vulcan personal bubble.

"I do not know if Q was telling the truth. I can only inform you of his conversation with T'Pau," he warned her. Hermione nodded, indicating her understanding, and then she listened to Sarek repeat the details of a tale voiced by his grandmother, the Matriarch of Vulcan.

"… I cannot say with any certainty if his claims are true, but my House did not reach its status by ignoring advice, trace evidence, and potential allies. He said you would be important, to watch for you, so we have, primarily through the Vulcan embassies on Terra. Not very successfully, though, since you have lived on Earth for years without drawing our attention. Our information specialists set up several programs looking for any trace of Hermione Granger or your physical appearance."

Hermione nodded slowly. "You wouldn't have. As soon as I realized I was not in my world, my time, I took steps to hide my appearance and past. I used a variety of pseudonyms until I had enough credits and contacts to buy a set of fake IDs. Others helped by setting up my fake background in various databases."

Sarek nodded. "Understandable. Have you been working as a Healer since you arrived?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. It was the only thing I could do. I didn't know the science or the tech, or even the local history, but less-than-legal outfits always need good doctors. I was very careful to only accept those with acceptable moral codes," she hastily reassured Sarek, whom she knew was amused, though he did not show it.

"Expected. You could not go to a legal authority without risking incarceration."

Hermione was taken aback by the placid acceptance. Whoever said Vulcans were rigid, inflexible scientists should be shot, drawn and quartered. Hermione had avoided Vulcans, though she had formed and maintained contact with various groups of V'tosh ka'tur. It was through them that she had learned about the language, culture, and history of Vuhlkansu.

Sarek was the epitome of the proper Vulcan, and T'Pau was the Matriarch. And yet both of them had believed in and looked for her. Probably for their own reasons, but they had not forgotten or stopped looking for her.

She blinked back tears and forced her eyes to meet Sarek's steady gaze. "So, what now?"

"It is up to you." Sarek's voice was undemanding, placid. "With the loss my people have suffered, we would welcome an additional Healer who has some familiarity with our ways. Currently, most of Vulcan's financial resources are being directed towards setting up a new home world, but there are other ways we can compensate you. Specialized training in more efficient healing techniques. A more thorough background history and complete educational history and credentials from one of the smaller learning institutions on Vulcan, before the destruction." He paused, to regain control. "The only surviving Vulcan Healing Adept is X'mjn H'twl T'Rin. And she is growing old. It would be logical for her to find suitable students, to share her knowledge and skills. Given our situation and your talents, I anticipate T'Pau would approve an offer of citizenship as well."

Hermione froze.

"May I think about it?"

"Of course."

She watched as he picked up the tray and exited the room. Once the door clicked shut, Hermione fell back on the bed and thought hard. This was so much more than what she had expected. Sarek was offering stability. A home. A place where she could put down roots and work without fearing discovery. Perhaps she could risk using more than just her healing talents. Hermione had been very careful about using magic on Earth. There was too much chance of being detected and exposed. Hermione knew her own race. Human beings were capable of great acts of both kindness and cruelty, compassion and hate. And no matter how much they puffed on about the Federation and accepting aliens, there was always a tendency to fear and hate those of their own kind who were different.

Sure, she'd be surrounded by Vulcans, but they wouldn't be as bad as the pureblood wizards she had fought. Vulcans might be stand-offish and snobbish intellectuals, but they wouldn't try to kill her for the sin of being different. It wouldn't be logical. The only downside she could see was the separation from the few individuals she cared for. But then again, most of them were either in Starfleet or off-planet on various merchant vessels. Most of her contact was through comm and subspace transmissions. That wouldn't change if she accepted Sarek's offer. T'Pau's offer.

T'Pau, the Matriarch of all Vuhlkansu, knew and had looked for Hermione. Sarek expected T'Pau to offer Hermione citizenship. T'Pau wanted Hermione, most likely for her healing abilities, but Hermione was okay with that. It was like wanting the best scientist, doctor, engineer, or programmer for whatever project you had going. And T'Pau was powerful enough to protect her if any rogue agencies came hunting, from the Federation and Earth if the bureaucrats and scientific community found out about her. Vulcan was good at protecting their own. They had done it for thousands of years, and Hermione was certain that wouldn't change anytime soon.

That was enough to seal the deal in Hermione's mind. She pulled out a PADD from the bedside table drawer and began composing lists: people she needed to inform via mail or in person, things she had to do, personal belongings that had to be sorted through and disposed of, stored, or shipped to the new colony, supplies she needed to purchase or arrange for.

She hoped James would not react too badly when she informed him of her decision to accept Sarek's offer. She expected him to whine and bitch and sulk, but, with any luck, he'd get over the worst of it before he received his new assignment. She did not have any time to waste coaxing him into a good mood.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

In Paris, T'Pau sat down at the desk in her private suite. It had been a long day filled with meetings, with Starfleet, the Federation Council, and other organizations trying to locate a suitable new home for Vulcans. The bulk of their history and treasures and people had been lost when the _Narada_ destroyed Vulcan, but there was still hope.

Only an estimated ten thousand had managed to escape, but there were about eight point two million Vulcans scattered throughout the Alpha Quadrant working for private institutions, the Federation, and on eighteen Vulcan colony worlds. T'Pau had considered choosing one of them as the site of the new home world but decided it would be better to start anew.

She tapped the sequence of keys to bring up her messages, scanning them by priority and sender. Everything was marked high priority since Vulcan's destruction. Then her attention was caught by one particular message. From Sarek.

Quickly she played it. Once, twice, then three times.

The human female was a True Healer. A self-proclaimed witch. T'Pau was uncertain of the archaic designation but was determined to keep an open mind. Healing and telepathy would have been considered witchcraft in Terra's past. And she was from the past. It would be best to meet and evaluate her and her abilities in person before drawing conclusions.

The intelligence, aptitude, and problem-solving tests were very promising. Her physical science background was oddly skewed to physics and biochemistry. T'Pau was uncertain why she had a strong understanding of physics and math. One more question for T'Pau to ask in person.

The elderly Vulcan skimmed her grandson's closing comments and was pleased. Sarek had logically anticipated T'Pau's next steps and made the initial offer. And the human Healer had accepted it.

T'Pau decided it would be prudent to wait three months before making the offer of citizenship to ascertain how the Healer was adjusting to the new situation. But T'Pau had no concerns. The woman had adjusted to the huge cultural shock of being removed from her own time and set into an unknown alien future. And she had thrived. She had made pragmatic, logical choices and had done what she could to serve. The matriarch skimmed over the list of requests. All logical and perfectly acceptable. Including the request for in-depth background and educational credentials. The name the Healer had chosen struck T'Pau. Hermione Jayne Evans. She had primarily been using the name Jean Evans on Terra.

T'Pau studied the image Sarek had attached in his communiqué. A slim, not-too-tall brunette, with dark brown eyes flecked with gold and defined, not-classical features, dressed in a long, dark blue skirt and long-sleeved blouse. She was standing next to a familiar younger blue-eyed blond human male; the same male who had fought and failed to save Vulcan but succeeded in saving his own home world. James Tiberius Kirk. He was grinning broadly at the camera, but the Healer's expression was calmer and more knowing.

T'Pau mentally reviewed Sarek's notes concerning Spock's reaction to her. And his own. The aura of calm and serenity Hermione Evans projected, her familiarity with Vulcan traditions. T'Pau knew her people were wounded and hurting. Perhaps this new healer would be the blessing Vuhlkansu needed in this trying time.

Vaguely she considered the best way to arrange a match between her great-grandson and Hermione Evans. Some of the other Elders might protest introducing more human genes into the House of Surak but—to T'Pau—the potential in the Healers bloodline was worth it.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Spock Prime stood discreetly between several cargo containers, waiting for his younger counterpart to make an appearance in Hanger One. He had heard Spock had made the decision to resign his commission. It was something he could not let his younger counterpart do without at least trying to change his mind.

A familiar, yet so very different figure appeared around the corner. Prime chose to make his move. He stepped out of his cover and began moving towards the exit, in plain sight.

"Father."

He stopped and turned around. "I am not our father. There are so few Vulcans left we cannot afford to ignore each other."

He saw the minute shock and quick comprehension in his younger counterpart's countenance.

"Then why did you send Kirk aboard, when you alone could have explained the truth?"

Prime could not contain the emotion softening his expression. "Because you needed each other. I could not deprive you of the revelation of all that you could accomplish together. Of a friendship that would define you both, in ways you cannot yet realize."

Spock frowned slightly. "How did you persuade him to keep your secret?"

"He inferred that universe-ending paradoxes would ensure should he break his promise."

Spock was shocked and not hiding it. "You lied."

"Oh, I implied."

He looked more thoughtful than horrified now. "A gamble."

"An act of faith," Prime corrected mildly, "one I hope that you will repeat in the future at Starfleet."

Spock stiffened. "In the face of extinction, it is only logical that I resign my Starfleet commission and help rebuild our race."

"And yet you can be in two places at once. I urge you to remain in Starfleet. I have already located a suitable planet on which to establish a new Vulcan home world. Spock, in this case, do yourself a favour. Put aside logic. Do what feels right."

His words were having an effect on his younger counterpart. He was pleased. And then shocked by what he heard next.

"Then I will be resigning my commission."

"May I hear your logic?"

"I have met a female who I wish to take as my bondmate."

Prime frowned faintly. "Is it Lieutenant Uhura? Is your relationship stable, and are your minds compatible?"

Spock stared. "It is not Nyota. We are only friends. I was her instructor and mentor for many years. It would have been most improper to have a more intimate relationship with her."

Now it was Prime's turn to be taken aback. "Forgive me, I was misinformed."

Spock inclined his head. "Understandable. The transporter room techs on the _Enterprise_ most likely have generated widespread rumours based upon what they saw."

"Lieutenant Uhura kissing you."

"Yes. She was emotionally compromised and seeking reassurance. She did indicate her interest in forming a more intimate relationship but I declined."

"Is it T'Pring?"

Spock blinked. "T'Pring? Of course not. The betrothal was broken when I joined Starfleet."

Prime relaxed infinitesimally. One less concern in this new world. "Then may I inquire as to the identity of the female? And your reasons for resigning your commission?"

Spock looked away for a brief second. "She is a Healer currently in residence at the Embassy who will be joining the new colony. Her katra is very strong and soothing. And she has very unique insights on xenocultural interactions." His eyes were direct, challenging. "I plan on increasing our acquaintance and eventually offering koon-ut so'lik."

Prime frowned faintly. "A Healer?"

Spock nodded. "Most likely an Adept class."

"Most likely?"

"She has not been tested."

"But she has been practicing?" Prime was faintly scandalized. "How reckless! Why did her instructors not curb her activities?"

Spock blinked in mild confusion. "She is self-taught," he admitted. "She never had the chance to go through a Healing Apprenticeship."

Now Prime was confused. "If she is as strong as you imply, how is it that she has not undergone an Apprenticeship?"

Understanding dawned. "You assume she is Vulcan. She is a Terran with very hi-psi talents."

"Her name?"

And was intrigued by the reluctance of his younger counterpart to share the information.

"Hermione Evans."

"How curious. I do not remember meeting anyone by that name."

Spock merely stared and did not say anything.

Prime considered the situation and the stubborn tilt of his counterpart's chin. He did not understand how or why Spock had fixated on Hermione Evans. If she was a psi-talent, there was the possibility of external influences. He would have to meet with the young woman himself before reaching a judgment. But he could not force Spock to stay in Starfleet, only persuade him.

"Tell me Spock, how long have you known Miss Evans? Did you meet her before or after Vulcan was destroyed by the _Narada_?"

"After," Spock admitted grudgingly.

"Who introduced you to her?"

"Cadet Kirk."

That threw a wrench into the works. "Did James Kirk share anything regarding his relationship with her?"

Spock glared at his older self. "Purely platonic. She looked after him when he was a runaway teenager. When he was older, they travelled together. He considers her as a sister."

How curious. Prime made a note to investigate the relationship. "If she is as most human women, she will not be willing to start a relationship with you." He decided bluntness would be most effective.

"Why?"

"You have lost your world and your mother. You are emotionally compromised. Humans in similar situations seek comfort and connection from friends and lovers through intimacy. An experienced doctor will not start a relationship in such circumstances."

"But I am Vulcan."

"And she is human. In her view, a grieving male is seeking solace through intimacy, forming bonds. Not an inaccurate view. And as a human female, she will not enter a relationship under such circumstances and risk her emotional safety unless she is certain or only seeking a temporary arrangement." Prime's eyes were direct. "She has not known you long enough to know your intentions. And if you tell her, she will not believe."

Spock struggled internally before giving in. "Then what do you suggest?"

"Become friends with her first. Send messages and recordings. Start a dialogue and find commonalities before indicating your interest." Prime stared at the younger male. "In my experience, human females tend to be contrary creatures. If you push, she will run. If you wait, she will approach you of her own free will."

Spock frowned slightly. "I do not want to let her go to the colony without me," he admitted. "She is attractive and intelligent and powerful. Once she starts her Apprenticeship, other males will know."

"And remember, she is human. Most Vulcans do not see the logic in having a human bondmate." Spock did not appear to believe him, so Prime tried a different angle. "I will be joining the colony. I can observe Miss Evans and inform you of any potential suitors and her reactions to them."

Spock pressed his lips together and nodded shortly. "Very well. I will stay on the _Enterprise_ if you keep me informed."

Prime inclined his head. "Agreed. Since my customary farewell would appear oddly self-serving, I shall simply say good luck."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

AN: I'm using a chunk of dialogue between Spock and Prime straight from the movie.

Review, Review, Review


	4. Different Choices, Different Futures

Summary: Spock Prime and Hermione adjust to life on Hamlan (New Vulcan). And the seed of a new relationship takes root and blooms.

AN: Post the Movie.

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

**~ooO Different Choices, Different Futures Ooo~**

Selek, once known as Spock of Vulcan, stood on the step of a pre-fabricated shelter, a structure that most residents of Hamlan were living in instead of permanent structures. It was a logical decision until the infrastructure for communities was built, and then government and other public facilities, such as hospitals, schools, and community kitchens, had higher priority over permanent private and residential housing. As the construction crews completed a particular building, the pre-fab shelters were redeployed for private housing and even commercial use.

Selek had managed to secure one of those units and have it moved to a plot of private land just on the outskirts of the New Shi'Khar but within walking distance of one of the planned public transit lines. Currently most residents were using old-fashioned muscle-powered bicycles to get around the place. It was rare to see a Vulcan in full layered robes; most chose to wear one-piece jumpsuits or tunic-pants outfits.

The tension within him relaxed at the sight of a familiar cyclist approaching. He stepped inside and reappeared carrying a steel flask. He watched and waited until the cyclist was at the bottom of the steps and dismounting before stepping down to join her.

He held out the flask. "You must be thirsty."

The Caucasian human with curly light brown hair smiled brightly and accepted the container. "Very," she admitted, unscrewing the cap and drinking deeply.

Selek watched in silence as she consumed three-quarters of the flask. The labs she worked in were almost on the other side of the community. Hamlan was not as hot and arid as Vulcan, nor the gravity as high, but it was still hard on non-Vulcans, especially humans. But oddly enough, his quasi-charge had adapted with very little side-effects. In fact she was less prone to suffering from sun or heat strokes. One of the medical doctors had commented that she had a dense bioaura, a characteristic of telepathic and psi-sensitive races.

"How is your research progressing?" he asked her as they entered the pre-fab unit they shared.

Her weary expression faded and her eyes lit up as she began talking about her current botanical project to catalogue the native flora for potential pharmacological use. Selek allowed her to babble on. Humans enjoyed sharing their experiences and interests. Selek doubted her Vulcan colleagues would appreciate her vocal expressiveness. It was something Vulcans found difficult to understand. If a Vulcan wanted to share information, he or she would send all relevant documents and data files to the recipient's PADD or data account.

Even though Selek was listening attentively to her, part of him was distracted by personal speculations. Hermione Evans had secrets, larger ones than being telepathic and an Adept level healer. Sarek had also taken an unusual personal interest in her. True, she was a potential human daughter-in-law, but it did not excuse the circular verbal interplay between them whenever they met. Out of curiosity Selek had tried to detect and track any electronic communication between them and failed. Subtle attempts at 'reading' her had failed; her mind was too disciplined and well-structured.

Regardless, she had proven herself to be a very good healer and determined student. There had been some opposition, but no one could claim she was not a contributing member of the colony. In fact, there was quite some interest in her from the younger, more well-travelled males. Everyone knew Hermione Evans was more than just human, but no one was rude enough to ask her directly. Vulcans would follow the Rules of Privacy: observe, interpret, and draw conclusions. Selek was not so polite as to always follow the Rules, but he sensed Hermione was…fragile and still grieving, so he watched and waited.

He only hoped that when she was ready to move on, to form a romantic bond, she would choose Spock. From their conversations and his observations, Selek could clearly see that Hermione was loyal, devoted, and true. She did not trust or form ties lightly, but when she did, she would do anything for her friends. Just like Jim Kirk. He made a mental note to remind his younger counterpart to correspond more frequently. Spock would greatly benefit from having such devotion and support, even if they never bonded. It would not hurt to increase their familiarity with each other.

"Selek, there is something I'd like to tell you."

"What is it, Hermione?"

"I think you know half of it, that I am a bit of an oddity? A human being, a powerful Healer, and psi-talent?"

"You are an outlier, but I have seen other outliers in my life," Selek allowed.

She laughed, a brief, abrupt sound. "Well, I am more of an outlier than normal."

"How so?"

"Well, I was born and raised in twentieth-century Great Britain. I have no clue how I ended up in this time."

"Hermione, that is not too much of an oddity. I do not think you know, but the _Narada_ was from a future, and she travelled more than a century into the past." Brown eyes twinkled. "I came from that same future as well, and I have no way to go back."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

"Oh yes. I was born Spock cha'Sarek and served several decades in Starfleet before retiring to be an ambassador. If you feel out of place, imagine having a younger counterpart or working with people you 'know' are dead."

Hermione snorted. "All right, your situation is weirder than mine!"

Selek nodded. "I must agree. In fact, it was my own work as an Ambassador and certain choices I made that led to the _Narada_ travelling into the past. The details are classified, and I cannot give you the details, but it is the truth. But please, never forget the Spock you know is not me. His life is very different from mine. In my universe, the _Kelvin_ was not destroyed, Jim Kirk was raised by loving parents, George and Winona Kirk, Amanda Grayson died an old woman, Sarek died several decades later, and Vulcan was not destroyed."

"How extraordinary! Perhaps you would believe me then. Tell me, Selek, do you believe in magic?"

And what followed was a tale so extraordinary that Selek knew it had to be true; after all, truth was stranger than fiction. The _Enterprise_ mission logs certainly proved that.

So he listened, occasionally asking questions for clarification and details to create a timeline and more complete model in his mind. She had been tense and wary at first, almost expecting him to denounce her as insane. When he didn't, she became more relaxed and willing to talk. Selek was a good listener, and he sensed that she needed one. She most likely hadn't been able to share the secrets of her abilities and past with anyone since she had been dropped in an alien place and time, a science-driven future Earth.

They only stopped to set out the food Selek had prepared and to eat it before resuming the conversation. By the time she slowed down and stopped talking, it was late, she was drooping in her chair, and Selek had plenty of food for thought.

After urging her to rest, the elderly Vulcan retreated to his own room to meditate and sort out all the new information he had been given.

There was something nagging him, like a splinter that was too small to be seen clearly. Something about the way she had found herself in the twenty-third century… Then it hit him.

"Q!"

"You rang, Captain Spock? Or should I call you Ambassador?"

Selek glared at the troublesome, jovial being. "You can call me Selek."

Q pouted. "But you are Spock!"

"Selek."

"Oh, all right! What do you want to know?"

"Hermione Evans."

"Oh, yes. One of my current projects." Q smirked. "All she told you was the truth. In fact, there are more truths that she has yet to share."

"Why did you transport her to the future?"

"Because she deserved a real chance."

Selek's brow furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"If I had not acted, Hermione Jean Granger would have died in the Eugenics Wars. Her determination to protect those less able to would have attracted the wrong sort of attention. They would have found her and destroyed her, after ripping her mind and body apart."

Selek did not pale. Q's unexpected candidness did not hide his serious expression.

Satisfied he had the elderly Vulcan's complete attention, the omnipotent being continued.

"There is a great deal of her war experiences she has not shared, but believe me, she was one of the key players to support the focus of the less fanatical factions. Without her, Harry Potter would not have survived to win the war. She was at his side every step of the way, just like you backed Jim Kirk." Selek inclined his head, indicating comprehension. "Once she survived the war, her primary destiny was fulfilled. I acted to move her away before she could form more ties, before she married and had children. If she had formed such connections, she never would have adjusted to living in the future, in a scientific society," Q explained.

Selek did frown this time. "It was a cruel act, Q. You took her away from her entire world."

"If she had stayed, she would have given them her loyalty, and trust me, Selek, most of them were wastes of air and food," Q countered flatly. "Wizarding society was stagnant, prejudiced, narrow-minded, and ignorant. When the Eugenics Wars started, they dug deep holes and cowered inside them, protected by their wards and shields. The few with brains went out into the general populace to help the mundanes and blend in. Those who stayed in the Enclaves eventually died under nuclear bombardment. Hermione would have joined the resistance against Augments and Khan in the Eugenics Wars. She would have helped them win in the short run, but in the long run, their actions would have escalated the clashes and wiped out all life on Earth."

Selek bowed his head, remembering Edith Keeler. They had prevented Doctor McCoy from saving her because her influence would have eventually led to Germany winning World War II.

"But why this time? And this universe?" Selek wanted to know. "Why not during Archer's time, or even Picard's time?"

Q shrugged. "She would have been feared by Terra Prime factions when the Federation was first formed. And there was too much risk the Borg would prematurely discover and try to assimilate her in Picard's time. This universe is a fresh deck of cards."

"Sarek mentioned something about T'Pau being contacted by a Q. Was that you?"

"Yes. It is one of the key differences in this universe. Here, Sarek shared that knowledge with his son after the _Kelvin_ was destroyed and there was the subsequent xenophobic backlash against Vulcanoid races. It was an attempt to remind his son, your younger counterpart, that there are some examples of humanity that are extraordinary."

"But why T'Pau?" Selek wanted to know. "She was a strong advocate for isolationism."

"Precisely! After the _Kelvin_, she could have succeeded in persuading the High Council to secede from the Federation. That would have been disastrous when the Borg comes. She had to see the worth in humanity, in the Federation."

"I don't see how you did it," Selek admitted. "T'Pau is very…stubborn."

Q smirked. "A bit of reverse psychology. I sang the praises of Hermione Granger's admirable attributes and abilities. And made a few throwaway remarks about how impossible it was for a Vulcan to have the necessary mental flexibility to match her intellect. That they would have to settle for an alliance at best. If they managed to find her."

Brown eyes widened in understanding. "You described Hermione as a prize."

"Of course! Because she is all that and more! She definitely knows it since she is the sole surviving trained adult mage in several quadrants. Take all you've seen of psi-powers, of Platonis, and multiply it fifty-fold because she is trained, disciplined, and experienced." Selek's eyes widened in dawning comprehension. "Until now, she had been utterly focused on safety and secrecy. Now that she has Vulcan's protection, she has relaxed enough to feel some obligation to her teachers and old world, to have mage-talented children and teach them what she knows."

Selek could not argue with that. There were nearly half a million Vulcans spread throughout the Federation, and they were all feeling the pressure to return to Hamlan, form bonds, bear and raise the next generation. He could only imagine how Hermione felt as the sole surviving human mage in a world and time that did not believe in magic.

As though reading his thoughts, Q continued, "She won't settle. She knows her worth and has done enough research to know she can fulfil biological obligations without settling for less. She will only accept a permanent partnership with one who sees _her_. Most of the Vulcans on this colony see her as a prize, a source of prestige and influence. You are among the few who see her as so much more."

Selek was silent for a while. "My younger self desires her."

"Then remind him to get to know Hermione Granger, the intellectual woman."

Selek nodded before asking the question that had been irking him.

"Why did you speak of her to Vulcans and then drop her off on Earth?"

"Earth would have exploited her, but Vulcans would have destroyed her emotionally," Q explained with a small smirk. "She needed to be cared for and have someone to care for, so I dropped her near young James Kirk. I honestly expected her to follow him to Starfleet Academy and meet Spock. I never thought it would take so long for her to bump into a Vulcan connected to Sarek. But she did do a good job of staying off the sensor grid," Q admitted grudgingly. "She avoided interacting with any groups that would have brought her into contact with non Vosh-katur. Her bioaura would have drawn too much interest."

"And now?"

"She is on her path. I'm more interested in watching than nudging since she has a better set of priorities than human males."

And with that, Q vanished, leaving behind a pensive hybrid considering the qualities of ruthlessness and compassion in a Q.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione Evans smiled as she poured a glass of savke berry juice and settled down in a stuffed chair to peruse the latest news downloaded onto her PADD. She scanned the synopses. Most of the top stories were related to Starfleet and Federation politics. A few were on Vuhlkansu. She viewed those in full text/audio.

Around ninety minutes later, she put the PADD down. The news was reassuring, but she needed to confirm a few of the stories with Christopher and a few of her other contacts on Earth. She had a real home now on Hamlan. She owed a huge debt to the surviving Vulcans and was determined to act as needed to protect the colony.

There were moments when she wondered what would have happened if she had approached the Vulcans from the start, when she had first been dropped into this unfamiliar future. She probably would have been invited to study on the old home world. Could she have done something to prevent the planet's destruction? Or at least delayed it long enough for more to be evacuated? No, she most likely would have died like most of the Vulcan race.

She dashed away the tears and tried to redirect her thoughts to all that she had learnt of Vuhlkansu since Sarek had offered her a new home. It was not all pure science and logic; there was a great deal of mysticism in the past and present culture. She shuddered slightly, remembering her instructions from the reldai about katras. If any wizarding Dark Lord had discovered the secrets of fal-tor-pan, of refusion, it would have been disastrous! They could have created a clone, force-grown a new body using aging-potions, and moved their spirit into it. But then again, perhaps some dark wizard had tried, failed, and died.

She sipped her juice, trying to not think of the magical world. It was gone, forever beyond her reach. Hermione knew she would drive herself insane clinging to a futile hope. So instead, she thought of the friends she had made in the new world in which she had found herself.

James Kirk, who had finally found a place that allowed him to grow and thrive into the man she knew he could be. She had first met him running away after his return from Tarsus IV, mentally scarred and nearly broken. Her gut instinct had been to contact the local authorities, but the feral look in his eyes had reminded her of Harry: starved, abused, fearful, broken, betrayed. Unable to do what everyone else had done to him, she took him with her. They had spent five months travelling together before the LEOs spotted him and forced him to go back to Iowa. Hermione had tried to stay in contact, but Winona Kirk had threatened to charge her for statutory rape, even though her relationship with James had been anything but sexual. They were simply two wounded souls clinging to each other for comfort.

Unable to tolerate staying on Earth without contacting the teen, Hermione had boarded the first transport she could afford to a non-Federation human world. It was there that she first met Christopher Pike, a senior officer on his third mission out. His ship had been sent to help when a local virus had mutated into something more dangerous. He had rescued her from the lynch mob of locals who had accused her of sabotage because the low-income settlers who had gone to her had had a better survival rate than the wealthy who had gone to the expensive hospitals. It was then that she decided to be even more selective in whom she treated.

Christopher and James had led her to Spock, who had introduced her to Sarek. Sarek, who had given her what she needed in a new home: privacy, acceptance, and safety. Oh, it was not perfect; there were still a few Vulcan bigots who looked down on non-Vulcans, but they would never harass her or attack her physically. It was not logical. They were easily avoidable and ignorable. She had more than proven her worth as a healer and researcher since she joined the colony. That had put her in the peculiar, unfamiliar position of being sought after. As a spouse.

A slight frown creased her brow as she refilled her cup and sipped the green liquid. There were many courting her, some in the formal Vulcan manner, others in the more subtle human way. She had politely declined all of them, saying she was not considering any offers at the time. But now she was at a crossroads. They knew some of what she was capable of and wanted her, to add her power to future generations. But Hermione was wary. Bonding for power or prestige alone was not wise. Vulcan spouses were bonded mentally, and Hermione had no idea if her magic and psyche could integrate into such a bond.

It would be easier if she trusted the person she was marrying. And loved. Hermione was a witch and human and not willing to give up her emotions. She could accept the Vulcan way of public stoicism and emotional control, but she was not willing to marry without love or, at very least, caring. Hermione knew she would be under more pressure to make a choice, but if she had to choose, she would prefer one who had proven he could love and care for a human: Sarek, Selek, or Spock.

That same evening after dinner, she put the question to Selek.

~o~

"Selek, would you be willing to marry me?"

The elderly Vulcan put down his cup of spiced tea and folded his hands in his lap.

"May I ask what has brought this unexpected question on?"

Hermione fidgeted with the hem of her tunic before looking up.

"Sapek asked me to marry him yesterday."

"Hmm."

"And Stovik the week before."

"Go on."

Unable to still herself, she jumped up from her seat and began pacing around the room.

"About ten weeks ago, I noticed a slight change in the behaviour of a few males I am acquainted with. The first proposal was from my colleague, Venhr, around six weeks ago. The next was from Varen. So far, seven Vulcans have proposed to me. Somehow I don't think it is going to stop."

Selek blinked. "You have several young, vigorous suitors, and yet you have chosen to propose to this old Vulcan instead of picking one of them?" he ended on a humorous note.

Hermione stopped and turned to look straight at the elderly Vulcan. "I don't want to marry a Vulcan who refuses to love a human."

Selek went very still. "Hermione…"

"From what I've managed to determine, only you, Sarek, and Spock have admitted to caring for human women. Sarek married one and is still grieving Amanda's death, Spock was devastated when he lost his mother, and you clearly aren't afraid of hiding that you care."

"Hermione-kam..." Selek patted the cushion next to him. "Sit next to me."

He watched as she obeyed, twisting her fingers together in her lap.

"Look at me," he ordered softly. Gold-flecked brown eyes met his obediently. Selek was reminded of Jim, his Jim. "I am too old for you Hermione-kam." He raised his hand to cut off her protest. "I am old and tired. You have a long life ahead of you. Humans easily live into their hundreds with modern medicine. With magic, you are likely to live past one hundred fifty. You are my daughter, my granddaughter, not a potential mate." She nodded once, accepting his words. Satisfied, Selek continued, "And you are correct. Sarek is grieving. Amanda's death was premature and completely unexpected. It will be several months before his psyche has recovered from the trauma of the broken bond." She closed her eyes and bowed her head. Sarek's condition was unarguable to a healer, especially one as sensitive as Hermione. "Spock… Spock is hurting, but he is the one most ready to accept love and a bondmate." Seeing the questions in her eyes, he continued, "I am not certain how much you know of Spock."

She blushed slightly. "I do correspond with him, mainly on scientific matters, but most of what I know is from James or public databases." She hesitated before quickly adding, "Spock confuses me. When we first met, I thought he was interested, but I must have guessed wrong because he's never indicated differently in our correspondence."

Selek considered her words before speaking slowly. "Spock was an instructor when he met Nyota Uhura. She was a cadet at the time, but they formed a friendship, nothing romantic, as it would have been improper."

Hermione snorted softly. "I don't know, Selek. According to Jim, Nyota Uhura spends a great deal of time with Spock. He's probably interested in her now that she isn't his student."

"Perhaps at one time, but no longer."

Hermione sat up straight. "You know something!" she accused the elderly Vulcan.

Selek smirked. "I know a lot of things. What would you like to know?"

"Is Spock interested in someone?"

"Yes."

"Who?" Selek stared at Hermione. "Me?" Her voice was incredulous. "But he can do so much better than me," she murmured, old self-conscious fears coming to the fore.

Selek snorted softly. "Hermione-kam, you have several Vulcan suitors seeking your favour. Humans might look for attractiveness in a mate, but Vulcans seek mental compatibility."

Hermione pounced on the minor diversion. "That's another thing. All those Vulcans asking to marry me, how do they know we'd be compatible in the first place?"

"They don't. If you consent, the next step would be to meld to confirm compatibility and to set up a betrothal bond."

Hermione fidgeted. "I don't want to marry them," she confessed. "I don't love them."

"Love can grow out of trust, respect, and caring."

"The only thing I feel for them is respect."

"And what about Spock?"

Hermione hesitated. She stared at her knees before looking up. "I respect and trust him," she admitted. "I don't know if I care for him." Selek raised an eyebrow and gave her a sceptical look. "Oh, alright, I care for him! I hate it when James tells me Spock was hurt and doesn't give any details."

"So, would you be interested in finding out if you are compatible with Spock?" Hermione was silent while she considered the question. Selek did not wait for an answer but continued speaking. "Spock is hurting, as are all Vulcans. He is still struggling to move past Amanda's death. It will not be easy, being his bondmate. He is damaged."

Hermione snorted softly. "We are all damaged, Selek; some more than others." Her expression was pensive as she remembered her experience in the war and the aftermath. "I have lots of experience with damaged souls. I don't expect perfect control as long as he doesn't expect it of me."

Selek inclined his head. "Then clearly indicate your interest to Spock. When I was younger, I was rather oblivious to feminine interests. I was always more interested in science and my research. I do not expect Spock to be much different."

Hermione smiled slightly. "Perhaps I will."

~o~

That evening she sat down in her bed with her PADD, trying to decide the best way to introduce the subject.

After starting and deleting several messages, she finally decided to wing it.

To: Commander Spock, XO & CSO, U.S.S. Enterprise, Star Fleet, U.F.P.

From: Hermione Evans, Healers Guild, New Shi'Khar, Hamlan, U.F.P.

Spock,

I hope you are in good health. I apologize in advance for the sensitive topic and the personal nature of this message, but I am following the advice of a Vulcan I consider a friend. I believe you know him as Selek.

In the aftermath of Vulcan's destruction, Vulcans have been traumatized by violently severed bonds. During the last few months, many unbonded Vulcans have been pairing up in anticipation of the Fires, and this has highlighted a disturbing fact about the surviving Vulcan population: there is a shortage of Vulcan females. A significant percentage of the females who survived the destruction are either bonded or too young. There have been efforts to encourage matches with other Vulcanoid races, such as the Rigellans. In the past few weeks, several of my male colleagues have indicated their interest in having a more personal relationship with me. It appears that they consider a human Healer and psi-talent an acceptable mate, given the current gender imbalance in the Vulcan race.

I do not wish to be an acceptable mate. Call it human emotionalism, but then again, I am human. I want to be loved and cherished. I will settle for trust, respect, care, and someone who will accept me, human emotions and all. Very few Vulcans fall into that category, though I would prefer a Vulcan mate, since I like living in New Shi'Khar. I like Healing and exercising some of my other, lesser-known skills.

Selek is the one who pointed you out as a potential bondmate, one who would not scorn me for my emotionalism. He asked if I was interested, and I thought long and hard about it before deciding I was. He then said I should contact you directly.

If you are already in a committed relationship or not interested, please reply indicating so. If you are uncomfortable and wish to end our correspondence, I will understand. I will not take any offence since I am not in love with you, only seeking a compatible partner.

If you are interested in exploring the potential of a relationship with me, then please say so. I do not expect our potential courtship to be quick or trouble-free, given your posting on the _Enterprise_ and my work on Hamlan, but I am willing to try, if you could consider me as more than a friend, as a bondmate.

Awaiting your response,

Hermione

~o~

Several hours later, Commander Spock returned to his quarters after a double shift on the bridge and in the science labs. After a sonic shower, he dressed in his meditation robes and checked his personal terminal for any messages and notifications before his usual evening meditation session.

There was one personal message that caught his attention. From Hermione Evans. He opened it and quickly scanned the electronic text-only correspondence. His mind hit on several key points.

She was being courted by other males.

She was not interested in them.

Selek had pointed Spock out as an alternative who would not ridicule her for her emotions.

She was interested in him.

Something tight inside him unclenched. His counterpart had done as he had promised in his last communiqué.

Spock picked up a stylus to draft out a response. His meditation session could be deferred. This was more important.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Doctor Leonard McCoy, like most of the _Enterprise_ crew, was looking forward to the highly anticipated downtime on Earth. The _Enterprise_ was due for an upgrade scheduled to take two months, and McCoy had already made plans for his time off. After one week in San Fran doing paperwork, the usual debriefings and meetings, and going over the list of expected upgrades in Medical, Leonard McCoy was going to Georgia.

"Hey Bones, got any plans?"

McCoy smirked. "What do you think, Jim?" he drawled sarcastically.

Jim Kirk made a face. "You're going to Georgia."

McCoy nodded. "Georgia to see Joanna. If you want to hear something different, ask the hobgoblin." The doctor jerked his chin at Spock, sitting across from them in the mess hall.

Spock pointedly refused to respond, seemingly riveted by his Greek salad.

Jim ignored the tension and turned to his First Officer. "So, Spock, any plans for your downtime?"

The Vulcan reluctantly looked up and answered, "I plan on spending my leave on Hamlan."

Kirk blinked. "Interesting. I'm going to Hamlan myself."

McCoy goggled. "You are? Why on earth do you want to go to that dust bowl? You'll shrivel up and die of heat stroke!"

Jim turned to his CMO and blinked innocently. "I'm visiting an old friend."

McCoy's expression turned suspicious. "Which old friend?"

"Mia."

The doctor relaxed, then stiffened after processing the response. "Wait a second, she's living in the new colony?"

"Uh-huh."

"What's she doing there? I thought surface access was being limited to preserve Vulcan culture and traditions."

Jim shrugged. "She has Vulcan citizenship, and she's a certified practicing Healer in New Shi'Khar."

McCoy grumbled almost inaudibly under his breath, something about voodoo witch doctors that Jim pointedly ignored. He did not want to pick a fight with Bones about Mia's talents and medical expertise. So, he looked at the other occupant of the table and was struck by Spock's expression, or, to be more accurate, his careful non-expression.

"Spock, do you know anything about Mia?"

"Please specify what you wish to know, Captain. I have corresponded quite extensively with her over the past two years on a variety of topics."

Jim eyed his First Officer. Mia had never mentioned anything about an extensive correspondence with Spock; just that she had kept in touch with him.

"Curious. She hasn't said anything about you to me."

Now Jim knew _something_ was going on. Spock just smirked at him. Sure, it was a rather brief smirk before his face returned to its usual bland mask, but Jim knew smirks and that was a smirk!

"You're hiding something from me, Spock…"

The Vulcan simply raised a brow. "I am hiding a great deal from you, Captain. Please specify what exactly you believe I am hiding."

Jim slammed his hand down. "That's it! What's going on between you and Mia?"

Spock stared at him before answering, "We are…friends."

Blue eyes narrowed. "Friends, huh?" Spock did not respond. Jim thought hard. Something was up with Mia. Her communiqués had become more tailored the last few months, almost as though she were hiding something. It was why he was going to Hamlan to see her instead of staying on Earth. Maybe Spock knew what was going on with her. "She's been rather tight-lipped in her messages. If I didn't know better, I'd say she was seeing someone."

Spock blinked. "It is possible, Captain. There are many unattached males on Hamlan." _But __she __is __interested __in __me, __not __them_, he added silently to himself.

Jim considered the idea and shook his head. "She did mention being asked out, but she declined because she wasn't interested."

McCoy snorted softly. "Jimmy-boy, it's every woman's prerogative to change her mind if she feels like it. She probably doesn't want you to get on her case about her boyfriend."

Jim made a face. "She's like my sister. If she has a boyfriend, I need to know so that I can threaten him!"

Spock quickly rose, picking up his tray and stepped over to the recycler. The Captain was very intuitive for a human. He did not want to reveal that he was said boyfriend.

Jim watched his First Officer leave without a word and wondered when Spock would really open up to him. Sure, he had relaxed quite a bit since the start of the mission, but it was nowhere close to the _legendary __friendship_ Selek had alluded to. Selek! Selek could help. He would know or could find out what was going on. Jim made a mental note to contact the elderly Vulcan and ask him what was up with Mia.

~o~

Unfortunately, Selek turned out to be rather slippery and adept at deflecting Jim's queries.

The elderly Vulcan smiled slightly and pointedly refused to answer any questions about Mia's love life, citing the Rules of Privacy.

Jim snorted. "So, what can you tell me?"

"Nothing about Hermione's personal relationships. However, we are scheduled to arrive on Earth three days before the _Enterprise_ is due."

Jim grinned. "That's great, Selek! Any particular reason why both of you are going to Earth?"

"I am required to make a presentation to the Admiralty. Hermione asked to join me; she will be finalizing some orders and deliveries that cannot be done electronically."

Jim nodded. "Probably some of her less orthodox contacts," he murmured.

Selek did not say anything because he suspected (and Jim knew) that Hermione's less orthodox contacts were heavily involved in smuggling and other illegal activities.

Jim smiled, a smaller, warmer expression. "Hope the admirals don't make your life difficult. Just remind Mia to keep a few evenings and days free so that all of us can hang out."

Selek responded with a similar expression. "I will." He raised his hand, fingers spread into the ta'al. "Live long and prosper."

Jim nodded. "You too, old friend. See you on Earth."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

McCoy glared at the lean figure sitting two chairs away from him. Sure, Jim was providing a buffer space, but there was something about the Vulcan-Human hybrid that got McCoy's goat. Unfortunately, Spock was more interested in the contents of his PADD than responding to McCoy's attempts at picking a fight, so the doctor turned to his best friend.

"What's _he_ doing here?"

Jim looked away from the display screen listing arrival and departure times of various public and chartered intercontinental shuttle routes.

"What?"

McCoy scowled and repeated his question. "What's the hobgoblin doing here?"

Jim frowned faintly. He did not like it when people close to him did not get along.

"Spock? He's waiting for the ambassador."

McCoy blinked. "Ambassador Sarek? Why on earth would he be on a public shuttle? Besides, didn't you tell me we're meeting that witch friend of yours?"

Now it was Jim's turn to scowl. "Bones! I told you not to call her that! Call her Miss Evans if you can't bring yourself to call her Healer Evans. And it's Ambassador Selek, not Sarek."

McCoy frowned faintly and nodded. Satisfied, Jim turned to his First Officer.

"You never told me why you agreed to join me," he noted thoughtfully. "You usually avoid Selek like the plague."

Spock blinked. "I do not avoid him like the plague," he protested mildly.

Jim waved his hand. "Sure, you do. You correspond with him but always through delayed messages, never live or in person. You avoided him whenever he was onboard." He leaned back, eyeing the other male shrewdly. "In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were here to meet Mia." Spock did not say anything. Blue eyes widened in dawning comprehension. "I'm right, aren't I?" It was more of a statement than a question. "You're waiting for Mia." Jim noted the careful way Spock avoided meeting his eyes. "You like her!"

McCoy blinked, confused by this unexpected change in topic. "Don't be silly, Jim! Spock has ice water in his veins. There's no way he'd be interested in a self-proclaimed witch!" he scoffed. And was taken aback by the fierce, angry glare directed his way. By Spock.

"Doctor McCoy, you may be narrow-minded and ignorant of the more subtle, advanced aspects of an evolved mind, but do not presume that I am! The single Adept-class Healer to escape Vulcan's destruction accepted her as a student and certified her as a Master in eight Standard months. The only reason she is a Master and not an Adept is her lack of supervised experience. That will come in time."

Both humans stared at the Vulcan, McCoy shocked and Jim grinning, pleased.

"No denials, huh?" This time Spock met his Captain's eyes directly, calmly. Jim nodded. "I see you haven't said my conclusion is false." McCoy refocused his attention on the younger man. Jim did not break eye contact with Spock. "Bones, you know everyone says Vulcans can't lie. Strictly speaking, it's not true; Vulcans can evade, imply, misdirect, and lie by omission. But they cannot, will not speak a lie." He tilted his head to one side. "Mr Spock, I believe you are interested in Mia, on a personal, more than platonic level."

Spock inclined his head, acknowledging the hit, but not saying anything.

Jim huffed. "Just don't hurt her, Spock."

"That is not my intention."

"Good."

McCoy looked at the two men, first at Jim, then at Spock, then at Jim again.

"Wait a second, you mean the theoretical boyfriend you were going on about is Spock?"

"Yes."

"And that's it? What happened to your plans to beat up the boyfriend?"

Jim's expression turned amused. "Bones, Spock nearly strangled me once. I don't see how I can beat him up without getting put into traction!" Then he smirked. "I'll just get Pike to threaten him." McCoy groaned. Jim turned serious. "Besides, I don't think I have to worry too much if Spock is Mia's boyfriend."

That comment confused the doctor. "Why?"

Jim's response was succinct. "Vulcans don't cheat on or lie to their partners. Nor do they have casual relationships." He turned to Spock. "In fact, I have a feeling this relationship is more serious than a long-distance one."

Spock inclined his head. "You are correct, Captain."

Jim sighed, exasperated. "Call me Jim," he corrected firmly. "If you marry Mia, I'm going to be the closest thing you have to a brother-in-law."

The Vulcan's lips quirked into a faint smile. "As you wish. James."

Jim huffed. "Jim."

"James."

"It's Jim. Jim, not James."

"James," Spock countered blandly.

The younger male glared, but the Vulcan was not put off.

Jim sighed and gave in. Spock could be more stubborn than a mule, and Jim had learnt to pick and choose his battles. This one was not worth the effort required.

"Oh, alright! You can call me James. Like Mia."

Leonard McCoy was not an easy man to shock, but this was too much to handle! The _Enterprise_ had been to Hamlan only twice since the mission began. As far as he could determine, Jim had introduced Mia Evans to him and Spock around the same time, when they were on Earth after the _Narada__'__s_ destruction. There was no way Spock could or would have hooked up with her in the aftermath! Long-distance relationships happened after a couple got together, not before!

He shook his head. "I don't get it, Spock, you do some mind voodoo and that healing trance thing, but why are you interested in her? A human who openly says she's a witch? It doesn't seem very logical or scientific."

Something feral flashed in Spock's dark brown eyes. McCoy was instantly reminded of what happened the last time Spock lost all control; he nearly strangled Jim before marooning the then-cadet on Delta Vega. His words reaffirmed McCoy's fears.

"Doctor McCoy, logic and control is restraint for Vulcan emotions that are more volatile and intense than those experienced by humans. Science is what we use to measure and describe the universe around us, but we do not deny that there are things that cannot currently be completely explained or predicted by science, things that have to do with the mind and the katra. We are a telepathic race and are very familiar with various psi and esper talents. It is not something to be feared or rejected. Several centuries ago, any human with such talents would be called a witch or some variation of magic-user. Even you, a scientifically trained doctor, call healing trances and mind melds 'voodoo.' Hermione Evans is simply using a term with which she is familiar."

McCoy retreated, falling into a pensive silence at the blunt response. Jim, too, did not speak, unwilling to choose a side. Spock re-directed his attention to his PADD. Some time later Spock looked up.

"The shuttle from Paris is due to land in six point four minutes."

Jim looked up at the display screen. Spock was right, as usual. The three men moved to the correct arrival bay waiting room and chose to stand within sight of Gateway 215.

The young captain forced himself to stand slightly angled to get a better view of Spock, not the arrival archway. Sure, he wanted to see Mia again, but he wanted to see Spock's reaction to her even more. So, he did not turn away when the computer announced the Paris shuttle's arrival and disembarking. He watched as Spock put away his PADD and began looking for a particular someone in the crowd leaving the shuttle.

Then he saw it. Something warm in the usually cool, distant dark brown eyes. The half-step forward, caught and subdued. The almost unnoticeable clenching and unclenching of fists resting alongside long legs clad in wide-legged charcoal grey trousers, topped by a matching tailored, mid-thigh-length jacket. Like Jim and Bones, Spock had chosen to wear civilian clothes instead of his Starfleet uniform. A sure sign, given Spock's preference for wearing the regulation uniform, even when off-duty.

"James!"

As much as he wanted to see Spock's reaction, Jim couldn't stop his instinctive reflex to turn towards the familiar, beloved voice.

McCoy couldn't help but smile, seeing the bright, blindingly eager smile on his best friend's face.

"Mia!"

The Georgian-born and bred doctor turned to see what his friend was seeing.

Standing a few steps into the waiting room from Gateway 215 was a familiar elderly Vulcan dressed in heavy reddish-brown formal robes. At his side was a shorter curvy female figure dressed in similar formal robes dyed forest green. McCoy couldn't see the colour of her hair or her ears, as both were hidden beneath the dove grey scarf wrapped around her head.

Jim took five steps forward to meet the shorter female running towards him, catching her up in a tight embrace, her hands pressed against the young man's back to draw him close. She was murmuring something soft, almost inaudible, in some foreign tongue that Jim understood because he responded in the same language. Reluctantly, he released her and stepped back, gripping the underside of her forearms, a grip she mimicked on Jim.

The translucent scarf wrapped around Hermione Evans' head covered her hair and ears and framed her creamy oval face. The high, smooth brow was adorned with a silver diadem studded with crystals and other semi-precious clear, black, and purple stones.

She smiled up at Jim, an expression that made her ordinary face eye-catching, and patted his cheek with her white-gloved hand.

"You have lost weight and look weary, James. You will rest, and when you are ready, I will listen."

He gripped both her hands in his and raised them to his forehead, a ritualistic gesture.

"I do not wish to burden you," he murmured with an oddly vulnerable look in his eye.

"I would not have offered to listen if I did not mean it," she countered gently but firmly. "But first, you must rest and meditate. Have you kept up with your forms?"

Jim nodded. "Yes. I try to practice at least once a week."

She nodded firmly. "Good. I will observe and correct any bad habits you might have picked up before teaching you any new forms." She glanced over her shoulder at her elderly companion, who had made his way towards them. "Selek has agreed to put you up during your leave."

Jim blinked. "Won't that be a little crowded, Mia?" he inquired dubiously. "I've lived in pre-fab units before, and they are rather constricted."

Hermione smirked. "I made some adjustments to the interior space."

Blue eyes widened in shock. "You didn't!" he hissed softly, torn between awe and fear.

She tossed her head back and lifted one shoulder in a nonchalant shrug. "I did."

Jim turned to look at Selek with a pleading expression. "Tell me she didn't!"

Selek's expression did not change, though his eyes warmed. "She was…discreet. And her adjustments were most welcome. New couples and families have higher priority for newly built private housing."

McCoy was confused, and he wanted to know what kind of adjustments they were talking about. Before he could speak, she turned towards Spock with a more composed expression before speaking in Vulcan.

McCoy cursed, wishing he had a Universal Translator unit on hand.

~o~

Hermione turned away from James, her attention automatically drawn to the quiet, still figure standing a few feet away. Hesitantly, her eyes lifted to meet dark brown eyes, and she was shocked by the strong response he invoked in her. She moved to stand before him, raising both hands, gloved palms up.

"_I __greet __thee, __Spahk __cha__'__Sarek_."

He inclined his head gravely before responding in the same archaic dialect. "_And __I __thee, __Hermione __cha__'__Daniel_."

Slowly, he raised his hands and placed them palm down over hers. His much larger appendages completely covered hers. She could feel the warmth of him through the thin silk of her gloves. Then his fingertips brushed over her inner wrists, touching bare skin where her gloves ended.

Her eyes squeezed shut as she gasped softly, feeling him inside her mind, lingering over some thoughts, moving quickly over others. He was seeking her current impressions and thoughts, not her memories. Deftly she directed him towards what he was seeking. His mind touch was deft and gentle, inquiring, not invasive. She felt no distaste towards her physical and emotional reactions and thoughts. A welcome change from telepathic experiences she'd had before she started wearing close-fitting jumpsuits and silk gloves to avoid skin-on-skin contact.

She opened her eyes and peeked up through thick lashes. He was not visibly smiling, but she could feel it inside her. His curiosity and interest and hope, tinged with worry and fear. She felt the urge to reassure him that she was not stringing him along with false hope to publicly humiliate him. Selek had told her of T'Pring, and if the bitch had survived the destruction, Hermione would have given her the same treatment she'd given Umbridge.

She moved her hands away from his without looking away. Keeping eye-contact, she stripped off her gloves and stuffed them inside her sleeves before reaching out for his hands. Without giving him the chance to protest, she touched his fingertips with hers, deliberately lowering her barriers, allowing him to feel her joy, eagerness, impatience, all laced with her own fears and self-doubt.

For a moment she feared he was going to pull away, but then his fingers shifted, lacing with hers. Experimentally, she reached out, trying to get a sense of his feelings. Concern, wariness, anticipation, curiosity, and underneath all that, the undeniable yearning for something more, an anchor, a support, a stabilizer, understanding. Hermione smiled. She could give him that.

Her fingers tightened around his as she focused on that thought and spoke out loud.

"_If __thee __art __willing, __I __shall __be __all __that __and __more_."

Brown eyes widened slightly in shock. Hermione smiled faintly. "_My __people __are __not __mind-blind __as __most __humans. __It __will __have __an __effect __on __any __bond __we __choose __to __make_."

He inclined his head. "_I __look __forward __to __finding __out_."

Reluctantly she disengaged her fingers from his and tucked her hands into her sleeves as she stepped back and composed her expression into something distant and cool.

"Doctor McCoy. I cannot say it is a pleasure to see you again."

She ignored his grumbles, turning to the old Vulcan standing behind her. "_Would __thou __object?_"

Selek looked visibly amused as he responded in Standard, "No. I am sure James can keep this old Vulcan company."

She steeled herself and turned towards Jim. The tight knot in her loosened once she saw his expression: pensive, bittersweet, accepting.

"I did not start out intending this," she whispered.

He stepped forward and hugged her. "I didn't think so." He stepped back and looked her in the eye. "Few people do."

"Does this bother you?"

Jim made a face. "I'm your brother, Mia. Of course it bothers me! But when I think of all the dicks out there you could have hooked up with…Spock is a prince." He turned to catch Spock's eye with a serious expression. "I'm not going to ask because I know Vulcans don't play around. Just…just…." He heaved a deep breath. "Just be careful with her. Emotionally, I mean."

Spock bowed his head. "I will."

Jim nodded firmly. "Good." He glanced around. "Do you have any plans? I'm getting this feeling Mia's on Earth to see you, not me."

Hermione huffed and punched the blond man in the bicep.

"Oww." He winced theatrically. "Was I wrong?"

She shook her head.

"So there." He looked at Spock. "Why don't the two of you catch up? Selek can get me and Bones up to speed on what's been happening."

Hermione beamed and stepped away, reaching out to grab Spock's covered forearm.

"Great! We'll catch up with you guys at the hotel for dinner. If you want to eat out, feel free to make reservations at any place with a good vegetarian menu!" She looked up at the tall Vulcan standing next to her. "Come. I did some research and made a list of places to visit." And then she began walking, forcing the Vulcan she was holding onto to follow or be dragged along.

Jim resisted the urge to sigh as he watched them leave. He saw her grip on Spock's forearm slide down towards his wrist until her fingers laced with his, her palm pressed against his.

"Why do I have the urge to look away, Selek?"

The elderly Vulcan moved to stand beside him, also watching the couple walk away.

"Because you have good instincts, James."

"They're doing the Vulcan equivalent of making out, aren't they?" It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes. Hand holding is the Vulcan equivalent of kissing." Selek cocked his head. "In fact, their current actions are the equivalent of light pornography on Vulcan."

Jim nearly choked. McCoy did choke and cough and sputter, trying to clear his airways.

For a brief instant, Selek was concerned he would have to restrain his young friend from chasing down his First Officer and beating him up for making out with his heart-sister.

Then, Jim shook his head like a wet dog and laughed. "Oh, hell! It isn't like I haven't done it myself!" He grinned at the ambassador. "Why don't you get me caught up with what's been happening on Hamlan? The unofficial side of things."

Selek inclined his head. "That is agreeable. In exchange, I wish to hear the unofficial side of your missions."

Jim nodded. "You're on." He reached out to grab McCoy's sleeve. "Come on, Bones. You look like you could use a drink."

McCoy snorted. "Hell, I need more than a drink, I need the whole bottle!" He looked over his shoulder at the disappearing couple, and a sly smile curved his lips. "Hey, Selek, do you think Spock will be putting in the request for shared quarters anytime soon?"

"Bones!"

"Just asking, Jim."

"I do not believe so, Leonard. Hermione is very engrossed in her current pharmaceutical research on Hamlan. Perhaps in a few years, Fires permitting."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

Review, Review, Review


	5. A Union of Two

Summary: Epilogue. At the end of his leave on Hamlan, Spock and Hermione make plans to formalize matters.

AN: AU, Post the Movie.

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

**~ooO A Union of Two Ooo~**

T'Pau carefully arranged the headpiece of her outfit before re-centring the elaborate and heavy collar-like necklace representing her status and clan over her heavy formal robes. Today was a day she had been looking forward to for a long time. Finally, the Gryffindor Princess would take the first steps to be formally bonded with one of T'Pau's descendants; her talents and prestige would be added to the House of Surak.

It was a pity Spock had chosen to retain his commission in Starfleet, but T'Pau was certain he would eventually return to Hamlan.

"T'sai T'Pau. S'haile Spah'k has arrived with a human companion."

T'Pau nodded and rose to step out and speak to her great-grandson. Before she exited, T'Pau gave her aide instructions to continue with her assigned research project while T'Pau was otherwise occupied.

Her current aide was a teenaged great-great-granddaughter who had survived the destruction of Vulcan. S'vai had expressed a desire to enter the diplomatic service and requested the opportunity to assist T'Pau two hours every evening. T'Pau hoped S'vai found an alternative field of interest that would not involve travelling off-planet. There were not sufficient unbonded females, or Vulcans for that matter, to encourage extended periods of self-exploration.

The matriarch seated herself before nodding to her great-grandson, dressed in formal dark brown Vulcan robes embroidered in bronze. The short human female standing beside him was dressed in dark green robes embroidered with black silk thread along the collar, front, and cuffs. T'Pau raised a brow, noting that the designs on the female's robes were non-Vulcan glyphs. Nothing with which she was familiar.

"Spah'k."

Sarek's son bowed his head. "Pid-kom."

T'Pau glanced at the human female who met her eyes calmly, almost placidly. T'Pau gained the impression of great hidden depths. This one had almost Vulcan-like control. Suddenly, she wished she had arranged to interact more with Hermione Evans. Unfortunately, her duties and Hermione Evans' commitments rarely allowed their paths to intersect informally.

"What do you seek, son of Sarek?"

He glanced at his companion. T'Pau was certain they were communicating non-verbally, but how exactly she was not sure. They were not touching each other, and she was certain they were not bonded.

Amanda Grayson's brown eyes met T'Pau's black ones calmly.

"We seek your permission to bond. Our minds are compatible, and our interests are similar."

T'Pau's eyes sharpened. "Will she join you in Starfleet?"

"Not at this time, Elder," the young female murmured in soothing tones. "My duty to the Vulcan community is greater than my personal preferences. I will remain on Hamlan until the _Enterprise_'s five-year mission has ended, or until Spock experiences the Fires."

T'Pau nodded, absorbing the information. "Very well. Kneel before me. I must verify your compatibility before I give my consent."

Both followed her instructions and remained still as T'Pau placed an aged hand upon each young face. The stern face creased slightly as she examined both minds, one familiar and disciplined, the other vibrant and fluid.

Black eyes widened as the link between them resisted her probes, almost twisting out of her mental 'fingers.' It was not the faint thin cord she was used to seeing in compatible couples. It was several strands twisted and braided together; each strand adding its strength to the whole until the connection nearly resembled a Fires-forged marriage bond. The resonance between them was extraordinary. She caught small glimpses of hand-holding, fingertips brushing against bare skin, a focused passion for something _more_ that caught T'Pau off guard. Then she was pushed out firmly and surely.

She stared at her new great-granddaughter-to-be. Hermione Evans did not look away or fidget but met the matriarch's eyes with her own calm, unflinching gaze. At that moment, T'Pau found she could easily believe all of Q's claims. Humans were a driven and creative race, but there was something more in Hermione Evans. The decades to come would be filled with many challenges and changes for Vulcans and the Federation, events catalyzed by this single female.

"Sit," she ordered the two of them and waited until they were settled across from her. "Do you have any other plans to formalize your union?"

"We will be having a Federation wedding ceremony in addition to the Van-Kal t'Telan. So that I can contact and visit Spock without too much interference," Hermione explained. "Our bonding will be concluded on Hamlan when the Fires burn."

T'Pau raised an eyebrow. "You seem certain Spock will experience the Fires," she mused.

Hermione merely looked back blankly. "I am certain you are aware of Elder Selek. He has informed us it is a very strong possibility. Even stronger, given the current situation."

T'Pau inclined her head in assent.

"It is a prudent assumption." Black eyes twinkled. "A very welcome and anticipated event as well," she added mildly.

Spock blinked twice. A small loss of control, but forgivable.

"Forgive me, Pid-kom, but your positive response is…unexpected."

T'Pau leaned back in her chair. "Do not be foolish. Do you not remember it was I who listened to the words of the being called Q?" She turned to the Terran. "I am uncertain of how much Spock has told you…"

"Quite a bit," Hermione admitted freely. "It is illogical to start a relationship under false pretences. He said you interacted with an unknown shape-shifting being who called himself Q. He is the one responsible for moving me to this time and space."

T'Pau inclined her head. "At first it seemed impossible. But when I considered the facts and Q's words and what I knew…there was no benefit for him to lie. And he did not challenge me to do anything illogical…just to be open to the _possibility_. I had nearly forgotten when Sarek contacted me and said he had interacted with the Gryffindor Princess," T'Pau admitted.

Light brown eyes widened. "That's why you were so quick to offer me a place in the colony!"

"And you were a proven Healer," T'Pau pointed out mildly. "Healing is a rare and valued gift, now more than ever."

Hermione glanced at Spock, almost drawing courage from him, before turning to T'Pau.

"Spock informs me that you encouraged Sarek to look for me. And Sarek told him to win my respect and trust if he ever met me. So that I would ally myself with Vulcan."

T'Pau inclined her head. "I did. But do you truly believe that respect and interest would not be there if your heart-brother had not introduced you to his First Officer? Do you believe Spock would not have offered the resources and contacts he possessed to Heal Christopher Pike, his instructor and mentor? Did Spock mislead you in any fashion in regards to his interest in you? That it is false? That it is for purely clinical reasons?"

Hermione shook her head, smiling faintly. "No. He has not. He cannot mislead me."

T'Pau did not smile, though her pleasure could be detected by those familiar with her.

"Then I am pleased. I had intended to ally my clan with you; the benefits Q alluded to were not easy to discount. But to force or trick you into a bonding? No. That would have been very illogical. There was too much at stake to risk your disagreement. Especially after the disaster. I did what I could to increase your connection to Vulcan. I instructed Sarek to reduce contact with you so that you could come to a decision on your own, without any unintended pressure. I must confess that I had not anticipated your choice to share a household with Selek."

"James suggested it," Hermione admitted. "I was a little concerned about living surrounded by Vulcans with no human contact. He said Selek was more accepting and comfortable with emotions. And he was right." She glanced up, flashing a smile at Spock. "We have a lot in common. Being time-displaced is not something easy to comprehend." She turned to T'Pau, her expression becoming serious, earnest. "Thank you for your forbearance, for not interfering."

T'Pau blinked, taken aback by the genuine expression and words. "But I did."

Hermione shook her head. "You did not force us into making a choice. You did not drug or compel us into believing a lie. You did not pretend everything was perfect and that what you wanted would be what I would want. You allowed us to choose for ourselves."

T'Pau was definitely taken aback. "To do otherwise would be illogical and unethical!" she pointed out.

Hermione looked away, her eyes distant and unfocused. "It happened to me before. When I went to school, I became friends with a boy who came from a very traditional family. During the summers, I would spend a few weeks with the Weasleys. In our sixth year of schooling, I became infatuated with him." She turned to T'Pau, her eyes shimmering with old hurt. "I would have married him if this Q hadn't dropped me in the future.

"The first few weeks were hard. I missed Ron desperately. Then I became very sick. The free clinic doctor who saw me asked if I had ever used recreational drugs because the symptoms were very close to withdrawal symptoms. When I recovered, all my feelings for Ron had vanished. It was then that I realized that Molly Weasley had used love potions to make me attracted to her son, who, I can truthfully say, is a waste of air and food.

"You did not drug us, T'Pau. You did not trick us into sharing a living space. You did not insist on introducing me as a potential in-law. You did not push me to correspond with Spock. You did not contact me every other day and ask me about my feelings. You did not practically announce our engagement when we had not even completed school.

"So believe me, T'Pau, I would be proud to call you Clan Mother."

T'Pau pretended to ignore her great-grandson's fingers lacing through the fingers of the smaller hand belonging to the female sitting next to him. Hermione's loss of control was excusable. Forced bonding through drugs and mental reprogramming were inexcusable! It was a miracle Hermione had recovered enough to reach out, to trust and form an intimate bond.

The elderly Vulcan reached out and stroked Hermione's cheek, lightly skimming over the meld points, projecting an accepting serenity. She ignored the flowing tears and caught the younger female's eyes.

"The fault is not yours. You were betrayed by your Elders."

"I know." Hermione smiled, the expression more of a feral baring of teeth in challenge. "It is just one more reason why I chose a Vulcan as my husband, my bondmate."

T'Pau cocked her head in curious inquiry. "Tell me, Hermione Evans, what would you have done if you had not met Spock?"

Hermione's response was quick and to the point. "Once my personal situation was financially and physically secure, I would have arranged to have children without a partner."

T'Pau was taken aback. "You would not have sought out love?"

"I have love. I love James and Christopher and Lyri and many others. But to bind myself, to vow forever? Never to one who can't comprehend the commitment, never without trust, respect, and caring." She turned to Spock and smiled gently, squeezing his hand. "There are no doubts in the connection we have."

T'Pau nodded. "So I have seen. When do you wish to have the ceremony? It will take several months to arrange a large Terran-style ceremony."

"Unnecessary." Spock spoke quietly but firmly. "We plan on having a small civil ceremony on the _Enterprise_."

Hermione smirked. "James insisted on giving me away, so Christopher, Admiral Pike, will be conducting the Federation ceremony."

"Have you set a guest list for the Federation ceremony?"

"It is a work-in-progress. I know non-family do not witness the Vulcan ceremony, so most of my colleagues will be invited to attend the Federation ceremony. If you have anyone you wish to invite, let Spock know." She grinned, seeing T'Pau's raised eyebrow. "I'm looking after the ceremony on Hamlan, and Spock is organizing the one on the _Enterprise_."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Jim studied the bride and groom from his designated spot in the circle of witnesses. He was the only human present; all others were Vulcans and relatives. Spock was wearing formal red-brown Vulcan robes, but Mia had chosen to wear a cream silk sleeveless, calf-length dress that looked more like lingerie than a dress, given how it fitted around her boobs and flowed freely from below the gathers underneath. He wondered why she wasn't more concerned about getting a sunburn or heat stroke.

Jim Kirk tugged at the collar of his dress uniform and wished he'd taken Mia up on her suggestion to change into less restrictive clothing. But he hadn't because he wanted to honour his heart-sister the best way he knew how. His options for civilian formal wear were limited, and he did not like the styles Vulcans favoured for formal events.

"It will not take long," a familiar raspy voice murmured from beside him.

Jim turned and looked up at the elderly but unbowed Vulcan dressed in deep midnight blue robes.

"I know, Selek," Jim murmured as he deliberately released the hem of his tailored Starfleet dress tunic. "I'm a bit reluctant, that's all."

Selek raised a brow. "May I ask why? You had no doubts watching Admiral Pike marry them. In fact, you gave Hermione away and did not raise any objections."

Jim nodded. "I know, Selek. It's just that Vulcan bondings are essentially unbreakable."

Selek tilted his head to one side. "They are more sturdy than human wedding vows but not unbreakable. It can be done even without the consent of both parties involved, in extreme circumstances."

Blue eyes widened. "Really?"

"Really."

"Hmmm."

"And saying that, I must add that I doubt the bond between Hermione and Spock can be similarly broken. Hermione's…unusual talents and Spock's own gifts will make their connection stronger than a typical marriage bond."

Jim blinked. "Do they know that?" he wanted to know.

Selek inclined his head. "They do. Hermione theorized the possibility, and T'Pau has since confirmed it. Their bond will be 'until death do us part.'"

Jim turned to watch Spock and Mia stand before T'Pau facing each other and listened to them speak in High Vulcan, an obscure, archaic dialect not in the Universal Translator.

As though sensing his frustration, Selek spoke softly. "It is a standard wedding ceremony confirming their consensual agreement to be bonded. T'Pau has confirmed it."

Jim relaxed and continued to watch as T'Pau placed her hands upon Spock and Mia's faces and did _something_. Mia had warned him of it. What she hadn't warned him of were the ribbons of luminescent white light that appeared out of nowhere, encircling his heart-sister and First Officer after T'Pau stepped back.

He watched as Mia held out her left hand palm up and Spock immediately reciprocated, placing his larger hand face down on top of hers. And he listened to her speak in High Vulcan, actions and words that clearly surprised the Vulcans present.

"What's she saying?" Jim wanted to know.

Selek began translating softly and quickly for Jim.

"I declare before all that my choice to bond with S'chin T'gai Spock in the way of his people and mine has been made of my own free will. I stand beneath the open sky on bare earth and swear this vow. I reaffirm this vow by the fire of my spirit and the blood in my veins."

"Witnessed," a cool, soothing feminine voice murmured in Jim's mind, though his ears heard nothing.

"Witnessed," a hot, impatient teenage male hissed in his brain.

Jim spun around, frantically looking for the source of the voices, and saw that everyone around him had also experienced _something_. Did they hear what he just heard?

"Witnessed," the deep voice of an older male rumbled.

"Witnessed," the high, childish treble of a young girl piped out.

"Witnessed," a masculine voice called out in a light baritone.

Jim spun around. He had heard that last voice. Out loud and not in his head.

"Q!" Jim had never heard Selek speak in such a wrath-filled, poisonous tone before. He was very happy it was not directed at him. "What are you doing here!"

Jim looked in the same direction as Selek and stared. There was a stranger standing less than thirty feet away; a human man in an unfamiliar jumpsuit, with black shoulders and pants and a red top, with a silver Starfleet insignia on the left breast.

"So you are the one called Q."

Jim wasn't quite sure just how Mia had managed to get in front of him without drawing his attention.

The one she called Q bowed from the waist and saluted, two fingers to the temple and away.

"At your service."

Mia studied Q with cold eyes.

"You are the one responsible for ripping me from my world and time."

Q eyed her warily as she stalked towards him to stand before him. She was small and fragile-seeming in her bare feet, the top of her head not even reaching his shoulders.

"I should be mad at you, but I am not." She smiled brilliantly as she stood on tip-toe and brushed a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you. Thank you for what you've given me."

Q eyed her warily like any sane man sensing an imminent feminine storm.

"Wait, you aren't mad at me?"

Mia grinned wryly. "If you had asked me that years ago I would have said 'Hell Yes!' But now, even though I have lost, what I've gained more than makes up for what I no longer have."

Q smirked cockily. "You are a very nice but odd example of humanity! Most of your species are ungrateful, unappreciative, narrow-minded, short-sighted, and I'll stop right there," he concluded quickly, seeing her eyes narrow dangerously. He turned to Selek. "Why can't the rest of you mortals be as nice and appreciative as Hermione here?

Selek glared. "Because you cause trouble wherever you go, Q. And you enjoy dropping us mortals in untenable situations and watching us flounder," he pointed out acidly. "Your presence only means disaster is imminent."

Q frowned. "I do not appreciate being called a bad luck charm!"

Selek snorted. "More like a bad penny that turns up where it is least wanted." Dark brown eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here, Q? Why did you interfere and move Hermione forward while doing nothing when Nero moved back?"

Q glared. "There are rules, Ambassador Spock. As much as I enjoy rule-breaking, there are some rules no Q can ever break! Not if the fabric of reality is to remain whole!"

Selek raised a sceptical brow. "I find that hard to believe, Q. You claim to be all-powerful, and yet you say you couldn't stop one mortal ship from travelling through a black hole?"

"So long as the fabric of reality remains intact, I may not interfere, unless I am undoing events caused by the actions of a Q, myself or another."

Selek stared hard at Q. "So Vulcan…"

"No Q caused Romulus's sun to go supernova. No Q was responsible for the presence of the red matter that created the black hole. Mortals created this mess, so mortals must clean it up. So it has been decreed by the Q-Continuum."

Selek sagged. Jim edged closer, just in case his elderly friend collapsed.

"So, what are you doing here then?" Selek asked in a weary tone. "Why did you move Hermione to this point in time-space?"

Everyone turned to hear the answer to the question.

Q hesitated before speaking.

"Tell me, Ambassador, did you ever read Picard's reports about his first meeting with me?"

Selek frowned. "Yes. You transported the _Enterprise_ to an unknown region of the Milky Way galaxy. And the _Enterprise_ was boarded by the…Borg." Dark eyes widened. "The Borg."

Q nodded sharply. "Yes. The Borg. You are very aware of the threat they pose to all sentient species in this galaxy, any galaxy for that matter. They will assimilate and eradicate all life in their quest for unattainable perfection."

Selek steepled his fingers in front of his mouth. "The Federation is not ready for such a threat. They barely managed to survive the Collective in my time!"

Q snorted. "More by luck than a genuine advantage! Do you honestly believe this Federation will be ready when the Borg come calling in a hundred years?" he inquired sarcastically.

Selek shook his head. "Starfleet has lost too many ships, an entire class and generation of experienced officers. The Federation will be focused on rebuilding and reassuring the current members, not reaching out to make new allies. The Klingon fleet was decimated by the _Narada_, and Vulcan is gone. An alliance with Romulus is not possible, and the Cardassians are undependable."

Q inclined his head. "Yes. Unlike most of my compatriots, I am concerned about the Borg." He frowned slightly, looking away into the distance. "I would prefer to see the Collective destroyed before they assimilate all of this galaxy and reach the galactic centre." He smirked at Selek. "You know as well as I do that things will get messy if they succeed."

Selek shuddered in remembered horror. "Yes."

"So what does all this have to do with me?" Mia inquired hesitantly.

Q turned to her and smiled broadly. "Tell me, Hermione, what happens to electronics when you use what you call magic?"

Hermione frowned. "I have to be very careful," she admitted. "Or they will short circuit."

"Precisely!"

Selek frowned. "You cannot be serious, Q! Borg cubes are the size of small moons and are filled with hundreds of thousands of cybernetic drones! One witch, no matter how talented, cannot short circuit a single cube by herself."

Q smirked. "Who says she has to be the only one?"

Everyone froze. Jim wanted to throttle Q and demand answers. But he didn't because he sensed his usual methods of beating an opponent up for answers wouldn't work in this situation. Not against a being who talked casually of moving starships, crossing time, and undoing events!

"What exactly do you mean?" Sarek asked carefully since everyone had been stunned silent by Q's last statement.

Q moved to stand before Mia.

"You were born among mortals, but you are not one. Not entirely."

"What do you mean?"

"I think you know, Daughter of Nimue."

Mia inhaled sharply. "There are tales…. Contrary to Muggle legend, Nimue was not the younger student of Merlin but his teacher, a beautiful, capricious female who was said to be one of the Sidhe. She lived in Underhill, a land that could not be reached by any mortal or mage. There was speculation that the first Magicals were changelings, Sidhe children abandoned in the mortal realm because they were too weak to survive in Underhill."

"More like experiments," Q murmured. "The Sidhe are a faction of Q who chose not to abide by the Continuum rules. Very much like Vosh-katur. Your ancestors were engineered to have a small portion of a Q's abilities. The experiment was to see how mortals would choose to use their new gifts."

"And the Magicals failed," Hermione murmured.

"They failed," Q acknowledged. "Most chose to abuse their powers for self-gain or to harm those with less abilities with no justification. There were a few who chose to serve but none who served with distinction, who did not raise one race above all others. None until you."

Hermione closed her eyes, inhaling sharply. "The House Elves."

"The House Elves. And the goblins, and the centaurs, and the werewolves, and the giants… You did not discriminate. Even when you feared, you did not hate."

Her lips curved into a wry smile. "They did not choose to be different from me any more than I chose to be different from them."

"And that is why I chose you." There was steel in Q's voice. "You are my gift to the sentient beings of this universe so that they have the chance to survive the Borg."

"Hermione is a single being," Selek pointed out. "She cannot teach others how to use magic."

Q's eyes locked with Hermione's. "But others can be born with the talent. They can be raised and taught how to use magic by their mother, their clan matriarch." He ignored the shell-shocked expressions of all present. "You are the first mage, but you will not be the last. The alpha quadrant will rise and fall by your choices, so what say you, Daughter of Nimue?"

Hermione inhaled sharply and closed her eyes. Then she began speaking. "I grew up expecting war. I fought one war against genocide. Now you are asking me to have children and raise them to fight a war they did not cause, an enemy intent on destroying all life?"

Q's response was very even. "Yes."

Her eyes snapped wide open, her nostrils flared, small blue sparks jumped from the elaborate arrangement of braids wrapped around her head. "Then I say, bring it! I am not going to roll over for the next breed of fanatics seeking to destroy me and mine! The Borg will pay a hefty price for every sector, every planet, they seek to assimilate."

Q laughed. Thunder rumbled in the cloudless skies.

"So spoken, so witnessed!" He leaned forward and grabbed her by her shoulders before leaning forward to brush a kiss against her forehead. There was a soft flash of white light that briefly blinded the mortals present. "My gift to you. Long life and health, strength to endure what is to come, an extended lifespan to raise a large family and continue with your research. Your legacy will stand against the Borg. Your name will be remembered and venerated. Your descendants will be sought after in all spheres: in battle, in politics, in sciences, in love."

And then he vanished.

Hermione turned towards Spock, seeking reassurance. "Tell me I did not commit to fighting an enemy I never even heard of before today," she begged.

Selek coughed. "If there is an enemy that must be fought, it is the Borg. They are a cybernetic race originating from the Delta Quadrant that seek only to assimilate all other living beings. The victims are literally absorbed into the Collective and lose all self-identity and independence. The Borg cannot be reasoned with, they feel no compassion or love or even hate."

"What do you mean by assimilate?" Sarek asked in subdued tones.

"The Borg inject nanobots into their victims through fang-like retractable tubes in their hands. The probes rewrite genetic code, reprogram the brain, grow implants and replace organs and limbs with cybernetic equivalents. It is a horrific experience, and the rescued victims take months to recover both physically and psychologically from the experience, if ever."

"How did the Federation defeat them?"

"With great cost and loss of life. Planets and fleets." Selek's response was not reassuring.

Hermione stirred. "So Q's actions and suggestions are logical then." It was more of a statement than a question.

"Yes," Selek conceded reluctantly.

Hermione nodded and reached out to her new bondmate. Spock brushed his fingers against hers before hooking two around hers. She looked up and around at Selek, Jim, Sarek, and T'Pau.

"We have time. It is safe to assume they will not show up for another century since they would not be affected by events in the Alpha Quadrant. For now, I do not wish to inform the Federation of what we know. It will take at least fifteen years for the Federation to recover to its pre-_Narada_ strength. I would prefer Vulcan be in a position of strength when we share this information." She looked at Spock. "It might be safer if you retire your commission before that happens."

Spock inclined his head. "Perhaps. We can re-evaluate at the time."

She turned to Selek. "Can you start documenting everything you can remember about the Borg? The political, economic, and technological variables that worked for and against them?"

Selek nodded. Hermione turned to Jim.

"Can you sit on this? You know the Federation is off balance. Telling Starfleet of an enemy that will arrive in a hundred years is not going to help. They already have enough on their plate."

Jim frowned. "But Starfleet can–"

"Help? How? According to Selek, they barely beat them back a hundred years in the future. And that was in a time when they were presumably in a much stronger position."

"Not exactly," Selek murmured. Everyone turned to stare at him. "The politics of the time were rather strained," he explained. "The Federation had to make a number of concessions to reassure our neighbours that our intentions were peaceful. Intelligence was focused on the empires at our borders. Gaining intelligence on the Borg was not easy either. You can't insert an agent to infiltrate, their computer algorithms and technology were several generations ahead of our own, and their ships were bigger and capable of trans-warp. Not at this point in time, as far as I know," he added hastily.

Jim snorted. "So you're saying this is practically a no-win situation. We have to go up against an overwhelmingly advanced enemy with better ships, shields, and guns that wants to turn us into little robots."

Selek stared. "Yes."

Jim beamed. "Great! Where do I sign up?" Everyone stared at him blankly. Hermione snorted. "What? You know I don't believe in no-win scenarios!"

Spock shook his head in barely hidden exasperation.

Hermione stifled a snort, suddenly feeling much better despite the new threat looming over them. At least this time she was an adult getting a hundred years notice to prepare for a war. She felt warm reassurance in the back of her mind from her bondmate and pushed her own confidence through the bond.

Hermione did not expect the Borg to be a pushover; they were probably just as bad as Death Eaters. They were going to lose a lot of good people, probably friends and family, but Hermione knew there were some things that were worth fighting for.

Vulcans were trained pacifists, but under the right circumstances, they could be as fierce and relentless as Klingon warriors. Hermione realized she was not afraid to see that for herself. Not as long as she had Spock beside her. As long as he was with her, she was certain she could handle anything the universe threw at her.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

The End.

~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~oooo~

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